


Alicante

by Belsmomaus



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - San Junipero (Black Mirror), Angst, Bad Parents Lightwood, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fluff, Friendship, Illness, Inspired by Black Mirror, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Not Really Character Death, Relationship Rollercoaster, Romance, appreciation of life, bit of fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belsmomaus/pseuds/Belsmomaus
Summary: “Alright, we go with tourist then,” Magnus declares, clearly unwilling to pry him for information he’s not willing to share. He takes a big sip of his drink. “I’ve never seen you here before. And believe me, I would’ve noticed.”Alec can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks underthatgaze. “It’s my first night.”Magnus’ eyes grow big. “Yourfirstnight! Well, then lets make it a memorable one! Come on,” he jumps up and grabs for Alec’s hand. “Let’s dance!”_____Alicante isn’t what it seems to be. For some it’s home, for others it’s a place to have fun. For Alec it’s more than that. For him it’s hope.(Black Mirror – San Junipero – Malec – AU, it’s not in the least necessary to know either Black Mirror or the episode in question)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, this is finally finished!
> 
> For all of you who know the San Junipero episode of Black Mirror: have fun!  
> For all of you who don't know it: some things might seem a bit strange at first (and some still later on), but just go with it. Who knows, maybe you'll have just as much fun figuring out what's going on as I had watching the episode. 
> 
> After rewatching San Junipero (this time with my new infatuation with Malec in my mind) I couldn't help thinking see the similarities between the characters and how much I'd love to read a San Junipero - Malec AU. Well, in the end I started writing one, so...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS: The chapters vary greatly in length since each chapter covers a day in the story. Updates will come regularly every two or three days.

 

**Alicante  **

The cobblestone feels strange underneath Alec’s feet, the play of its surface unpredictable. He kinda likes it.

Though new and fascinating, the cobblestone doesn’t hold his attention for long. How could it with all of _this_ all around? This city is-- he could never settle for just one word! Tiny little alleys meander in between solid looking houses made out of honey colored stone and filled with shops and bars and artwork and tiny little restaurants, branching off from wider streets that lead up the hill or down towards the lake. Rows upon rows of houses snuggle up against the mountain side, shining like gold in the light of the setting sun. Gold beneath a roof of molten fire, born from the union of red tiles and the last rays of sunshine for the day, that hit the roofs at just the right angle. The warm orange light of the sunset peeks over the mountain range in the west and turns the snow covered peaks of the mountain the city is snuggled up against into a blazing, sparkling spectacle. Towering above the city like a second sun, stunning and beautiful and protective.

People fill the streets, some wandering the little alleys, strolling just for the sake of it, others with a sense of purpose. A direction. They head towards one of the bigger streets. Cars drive by, one or two are looking for a parking space. One honks loudly and a guy leans out of the car to wave at a group of people close by. There are more people here, some chatting in little groups, but most of them milling about in the restaurant up ahead or the little bar on the other side of the road. Others are heading down the street towards the open doors of a place called ‘Taki’s’. Music fills the air, clearly coming from inside the bar – or is it a club?

Alec’s gaze follows a couple that heads up the hill towards a place that looks to be an ice cream parlor. They have their arms wrapped around each other and laugh.

“Will you stop please? I just wanna have some fun.”

“Magnus, come on!”

Alec turns around at the almost shrill sound of a woman. Whining, but on the verge of being pissed.

“Magnus!” The woman in question – a beautiful young blonde in an overly short dress that hugs her curves tightly – just crosses the street in fast, annoyed steps. The sharp staccato click-click-click of her high-heels against the asphalt sounds almost threatening. Not that the guy she is following seems very impressed by it.

Alec does a double take as the man steps out of the shadows of one of the buildings and into the last golden rays of sunlight. He is _gorgeous_! Tight black pants, a dark burgundy shirt with a mesmerizing golden pattern that waves airily around his torso – is the material see through? His skin shimmers golden underneath his plunging neckline, almost hidden away underneath many layers of necklaces of all kind. Rings sparkle at his fingers and a few bright – possibly blond – highlights shine golden in the sunset amidst his deep black hair. He is asian, his features stunning and exotic with the black and gold and glittery touches of make-up, and he is tall and _those arms_. And his voice-- like velvet--

Alec almost misses Mr. Gorgeous’ reply – Magnus, his name is Magnus he reminds himself.

“Still heading to Taki’s, Heidi,” Magnus says with a shrug and a swing to his steps that should be illegal.

“Magnus,” she whines, “we only have a couple of hours, you know that. So why not use them?”

Magnus rolls his eyes and hops up the curb, a grin on his face. “Oh, I have every intention of using them!”And with those words he vanishes inside the bar – or club – closely followed by Heidi.

Without really thinking about it Alec follows them inside.

Taki’s turns out to be a bit of a mix between bar and club. To one side he could make out two pool tables at the far end as well as a few dart machines and something that looks like an air hockey table; to the other side there is a dancefloor and a few couches in the corners behind it. A bar spans the whole length of the big room and the area between both ends is filled with tables, chairs and some comfy looking booths along half-height partition. The place is crowded! Music fills the air, the beat thrumming against his ear drums in a not completely unpleasant way.

Neither Magnus nor Heidi are anywhere in his line of sight.

He turns away from the dancefloor – too many people, all pressed against each other, no escape from the touches of strangers, heated and sweaty, deliberate or accidental – and explores the quieter area to his left instead. Drawn to the dart machines he quickly finds himself collecting a few darts. He positions himself on the asigned line, aims and throws the first one. It hits the 18 with a smacking sound. He adjusts his aim. The next one strikes the triple 20. A grin pulls at his lips. The last one quickly joins the second.

“Wow!”

He turns around at the voice, sounding pretty close. It’s a young woman, watching him with a cocktail in her hand. Her skin looks like liquid chocolate in the dim lights. She gives him a shy smile and twirls a strand of long, curly, dark hair around her fingers.

“You’re really good at this!”

Alec smiles back and shrugs. “I guess.” He heads to the machine and pulls the darts out again. The woman follows him.

“I’m not much for darts, but I’ve been told I’m a formidable opponent at air hockey. If you’re interested--” she trails of, licking her lips while her fingers play with the straw in her drink.

“Um,” Alec starts, uncertain how to proceed. This isn’t his area of expertise. If he hasone at all, that is. But why not? Why not join her and have some fun? That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it? Just as he’s about to say so he hears angry voices. They come from a guy and a woman behind the air hockey table. They’re arguing, no doubt, and just before he knows it she slaps the guy hard across the cheek.

Alec flinches and takes an involuntary step backwards. “No, I think I’m good. Thank you.” With barely a glance towards her he leaves and squeezes through a group of people until he manages to find a quieter area at the bar. He orders a coke from the barkeeper, a guy with long dark hair, a sharp nose and a tattoo of a leaf at the inside of his wrist.

To his surprise he finds an empty booth and sits down, sipping his coke while he watches the people around him: smiling, chatting, laughing, drinking, dancing, kissing. Everyone seems to have a good time.

He hears him before he sees him: Magnus. That velvety voice, full of surprise, sends shivers down his spine.

“Camille! What are _you_ doing here?”

A quick glance tells him that Magnus is standing close, his back – and those amazing broad shoulders – towards Alec. A woman is in front of him. Small, almost petite, dark hair, black dress. There’s something strangely predatory in her gaze.

“Magnus! It’s been a while. Did you miss me?” She steps closer and trails an outstretched index finger along his arm, then towards his chest where she probably does the same.

“Not really.” Magnus grabs her hand and stops her administrations.

She looks hurt, but not really. No, she plays at being hurt. And quite obvious at that. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. I know you did.”

“Camille, what are you doing here? Looking for a new one? Got bored already?”

The harsh and accusatory tone doesn’t faze her in the least. Instead she laughs. It’s a cold laugh. “Oh, my dear Magnus. A wild animal in bed and yet still nothing but a sweet, innocent child.” She puts her hand against his chest. “You know where to find me, in case you’ll miss me after all.”

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the countless bodies all around. Magnus remains for a short while, then shakes his head and starts towards the bar, either unfazed by the strange woman or he always moves with light steps. It almost looks like dancing, the way he steps around people who cross his path and the ease and grace in his movements suggests that he’s completely at home in this environment. But then he stops all of a sudden, staring at the bar ahead. Alec follows his gaze. The wavey blond hair is hard to miss. It’s the young woman from earlier. Heidi.

Magnus turns around on the spot in an adhoc-spin that would’ve made a professional ballet dancer jealous. Before he knows what’s happening Magnus is squeezing onto the bench seat next to him, pushing him over with a nudge of his hip to get more room for himself. “Just go along with it!”

“Wh- what?” Alec stutters, not sure what’s happening.

“Whatever I say, just go along with it! Please!” Magnus looks at him from the side and up close his face is even more stunning than from afar. The ‘please’ is clearly written all over his dark brown eyes.

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything, because Heidi saunters towards their booth, one eyebrow raised.

Oh damn, he is so screwed. Improvisation isn’t his thing either. Certainly not when the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen is suddenly sitting not just right next to him, but so close that he can feel the warmth coming off the leg that’s touching his.

Magnus rolls his eyes and an annoyed sigh escapes his lips. “Seriously Heidi, this is quickly growing to be a nuisance.”

“There’s only two and a half hours left, Magnus.”

“So? I’m not obligated to spend them with you!”

“But last week-”

“Was last week! Look Heidi, I just met my old friend here and we have some catching up to do. He-” Magnus takes a quick, calculated look towards him, then faces Heidi again. “He’s sick. Like ‘six months to life’ sick.”

“Four, actually,” Alec blurts out. He doesn’t know what came over him or how he managed a straight face while saying it, this wasn’t like him at all. He can feel both their gazes on him now.

“See?” Magnus goes on right away. “We could really do with some time to chat. Some private time.”

Heidi doesn’t look amused, but in the end she sighs and there’s almost something like sympathy on her face. Almost. “Alright. I understand. But-” She takes a step back. Her hopeful tone betrays the stoic expression on her face. “I’ll be seeing you around, yes?”

Magnus nods. “Sure.”

The moment she’s out of sight Magnus leans his head back with a sigh, his eyes closed. The golden highlights on his eyelids glitter softly in the ever changing light. He should really stop staring, but Alec just can’t look away.

“That was-- interesting,” he says, much to his own surprise.

Magnus crinches and gets back up again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

Alec shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ve never been used in a deception like this before.”

“Seriously?” Magnus huffs a laugh, the upward curl of his lips doing strange things to Alec’s insides. “For someone who’s never played the game you were spot on, Mr. ‘Four actually’. I’m Magnus, by the way.”

Now, faced with the full force of that gorgeous grin Alec temporarily loses the ability to breathe. Or think. Only the fluttering feeling in his stomach remains. And the loud, thudding beats of his heart that he’s suddenly very aware of. How did this happen? How is this sparkling adonis sitting next to _him_ all of a sudden? And talking to him?

“Um- Al- Alec,” he stumbles over the words like an idiot, but his mind is nothing but cotton and his lips clumsy around the silly grin on his lips that just won’t go away. In the end he averts his gaze and clears his throat to get his bearings back and not act like a complete buffoon. “My name’s Alec.”

“Short for Alexander, I presume?”

“Yeah, but no one calls me that.”

A loud laugh startles them both and Alec looks up, his eyes searching for the source of the noise on instinct. It isn’t hard to spot, anyway. Not far away he sees Heidi, snuggled up against a guy with broad shoulders and long dark hair. One of her hands rests against his chest, their heads tugged close together. She must have laughed at something he’d said.

“Wow. She didn’t lose any time.” He hadn’t planned on actually saying that out loud.

Magnus gives her one last look before his attention settles back on Alec, something sympathetic in his features. Almost sad. “Heidi’s not so bad, it’s just-- I kind of pity her. Met her at Pandemonium, so-”

He trails off as if that’s supposed to tell Alec something. Well, it doesn’t. “What’s Pandemonium?”

Magnus’ eyes widen at that, which only makes Alec feel even more stupid and out of the loop as usual. “If you don’t already know what Pandemonium is,” Magnus says and there’s something bitter and guarded about the way he says that, “then you probably don’t wanna know.”

What is that supposed to mean?

Before he can ask, though, Magnus’ face lights up with that dazzling smile again and he gets up, reaching out a hand for him to take. “Come on, my quick-thinking savior, let’s get you a proper drink!”

Alec stares at the offered hand for only a second. This is all so very new and unfamiliar and a bit scary, but exiting – a guy like _Magnus_ doesn’t usually stop to talk to someone like him, let alone invite them for drinks – so how could he possibly say no? And anyway, he’s here to enjoy himself, isn’t he? To go out, put out his feelers, try something new.

He grins up at Magnus, wondering if his nerves are showing, and takes the hand.

Without preamble he’s pulled through the throng of people. Although the area around the bar is almost claustrophobic, Magnus weaves in between those many bodies like a dancer, each movement fluid and graceful. Even though Alec follows in his wake he knocks against elbows or shoulders and stumbles once. And then Magnus even manages to get a hold of two seats at the bar that get abandoned at right that second. It’s almost like magic.

“Hey, Meliorn,” Magnus shouts over the bar after lounging onto his seat – as much as one could lounge on a barstool – and leans sideway against the dark wood, “two martinis over here if you’re not too busy.”

The same barkeeper from before shows up with a smirk. “You know, we _do_ serve other things as well,” he says while he pours something into a shaker without even looking.

In no time at all the barkeeper with the unusual name places two small glasses in front of them with an olive swimming inside. Alec takes one, just as Magnus does.

“Cheers!” Magnus grins.

“Cheers.” Alec raises the glass in a small toast as well then takes a sip. It’s bitter on his tongue and sharp in his throat, burning. He coughs a little and even if he’d tried he can’t keep the grimace off of his face. Much to his horror as he notices Magnus’ curiously raised eyebrow.

“Never had martini before?” Magnus asks, a sympathetic tone to his voice. “Yeah, it’s not for everyone. I should’ve thought about that.”

“No, no it’s fine,” Alec hurries to say. “I just- I never- I’m not much of a drinker.” Which is one way to put it.

Magnus turns right away to lean over the bar. “Meliorn, could you get us-”

Alec reaches out without thinking and puts his hand on Magnus’ arm. The material of his shirt is incredibly soft. And thin. He can feel the heat of the other’s skin right through it, which is quite distracting, but not as distracting as the coils of surprisingly hard muscle underneath. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“You sure? It’s no trouble, I-”

Alec smiles, can’t help it. “You said it’s more of an acquired taste, so- give me a chance, maybe I’ll acquire it after all.” And he means it. He wants to try this. And to prove his theory he promptly takes another sip, this time prepared for the burn of the alcohol and the bitterness of the drink. He still grimaces, although maybe less than before. “This might take a while.”

And just like that Magnus laughs, a deep and rough sound, bathed in honey. His shoulders are shaking with it, but it’s those adorable laughter lines that crease around those sparkling brown eyes that hold him captive.

“You’re not like the others,” Magnus states, shaking his head with a smile. His dark eyes are trained on him. Taking him in from head to toe. “You’re different.”

Alec squirms under the scrutiny. He’s never been watched like this before and the words reverberate in his mind – not like the others, different. He can’t help but glance around out of the corners of his eyes. Look at all the young people around, dancing, talking, drinking. Enjoying themselves. They’re open, laughing, having fun, all of them dressed up for a night out. All of a sudden he’s acutely aware of his simple black jeans and grey t-shirt.

“Oh, no no no, I don’t mean that in a bad way!” Judging from the shocked tone and the way Magnus quickly leans towards him, his thoughts must have shown on his face. “It suits you. It’s authentic. You don’t try to be anyone else or fit anyone’s expectations. You’re just _you_. I like that.”

For a moment Alec is lost for words. And blushing. The words couldn’t be further from the truth and yet they also ring strangely right within him. Maybe that time has passed and he hasn’t even realized. He takes another sip of his drink to give him a few more seconds to collect himself-- and grimaces. Damn, he’d forgotten about the bitter taste.

But at least it distracts him enough to finally react. “What about you? Are you-- authentic?”

Shit, where did that come from? It must’ve been the alcohol, right? Does alcohol work _that_ fast?

But Magnus isn’t offended, instead he laughs and winks at him, while he fiddles with a metallic earcuff on his left ear. “I thought it’s pretty obvious that I’m not one for living up to other people’s expectations, but yes,” he grins and waves a hand along his body, “this is me, in all my magnificent glory.”

Alec chuckles. Yeah, definitely no problem with low self-esteem.

It still baffles him how easy it is to talk to Magnus. The way he looks and acts and is completely at home in this environment all had him think him to be unapproachable, like royalty. Like a prince who only cares for those who are his own and doesn’t care for mere peasants. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

“So, I take it, you’re not a resident, right?”

Alec shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

Magnus cocks his head. “Tourist, then?”

“Um- well-” He’s not sure how to explain.

“Alright, we go with tourist then,” Magnus declares, clearly unwilling to pry him for information he’s not willing to share. He takes a big sip of his drink. “I’ve never seen you here before. And believe me, I would’ve noticed.”

Alec can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks under _that_ gaze. “It’s my first night.”

Magnus’ eyes grow big. “Your _first_ night! Well, then lets make it a memorable one! Come on,” he jumps up and grabs for Alec’s hand. “Let’s dance!”

“Oh, no. No, really, I’m not- I don’t dance!” Alec stutters, flustered. As he feels the pull on his arm he resists it by pulling back. His eyes glance over the dancefloor, watch all the people moving to the music. Groups of friends in small circles. Couples, so close to each other it would be hard to fit a piece of paper in between. And Magnus wants to squeeze in there. With him. In front of all these people.

Something hard and uncomfortable twists inside his stomach.

Magnus shakes his head and pulls harder. “Come on! It’s really not that hard. Just do what I do.”

He could’ve easily withstood that tug at his hand, could’ve easily listened to that anxious twist in his chest that tells him that this is a bad idea, but for some reason he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of the way Magnus acts: as if this is something completely normal. Still, tension ripples through him like a current, reaching every little part of him and leaves him stiff and clumsy as they reach a small free space on the dancefloor.

Magnus, on the other hand, is a natural, not that Alec is surprised. It just fits. And it suits him. The way he moves, like water, smooth and undulating, as if the music is a part of him; it’s beautiful and captivating. Just like the lovely smile on his face and that far away expression in his eyes. Magnus _loves_ this, Alec can tell at once. It’s his bliss. But it really, really isn’t his own. And ‘just do what I do’ is just aboutimpossible to do. He tries anyway. Tries to move his hips with the beat, his arms and shoulders, tries to feel the music and let it guide his movements if only because he wonders what it feels like to be this wrapped up in something, to feel such joy and carefree happiness.

“You’re doing great!”

Something in him uncurls at those honest words and tightens again at that roguish wink out of kohl-rimmed eyes, but it’s a very different kind of ‘tight’ this time: warm and tingly and hard to breathe and yet he somehow feels as if he could do anything.

Smiling back Alec relaxes a bit more, the tension melting out of his limbs and although he’s still sure that dancing will never give him the same kind of joy that it gives Magnus, it’s not as unpleasant as he thought. How could it be? How could it be unpleasant with that gorgeous man in front of him?

Whereas Magnus loses himself in the music, Alec loses himself in watching Magnus, the simple elegance of each of his movements, the myriad of small expressions that flit across his face, the intensity in his gaze. But it’s something else that draws his eyes time and again, no matter how often he tells himself to not stare, to look away: the bare skin of his chest. His shirt reveals a lot of it already, but now, with its owner in constant motion the thin, burgundy material allows for sinfully thorough glimpses of golden, caramel skin.

Magnus smirks. Of course he caught him staring.

The song changes to another one and they keep on dancing. And Magnus inches closer. And closer. Alec’s heart beats faster. Magnus’ arms are thrown up above his head as he moves his hips. Their thighs touch. It jolts him, like electricity, and he takes a hasty, stumbling step backwards. Magnus doesn’t seem to notice – or care – either way he lowers his arms, slowly, his hands trailing down along his body in a sensual, sinful way, his intense gaze trained on Alec the whole time.

The frantic rhythm of his heart thuds loud in his ears, drowning out the music. His mouth is dry and he can’t look away, doesn’t want to look away, but this is too much! They couldn’t-- not like this--

An elbow hits him in the back and the spell is broken, the music droning loud against his ears again. A shoulder connects with his side and all of a sudden he’s overly aware of the throng of people all around, pushing and pulling and in constant motion. And they’re looking at him. He can feel their eyes, can feel their glances, curious, frowning, judging.

Repulsed.

He can’t breathe.

Somewhere at the edges of his consciousness he notices that Magnus is throwing his head to his side, doing things with his hips and shoulders that have Alec wonder how a human body can even bend like that, but the noises and the moving masses start to blend together into one big cacophony of thrumming colors and he runs. He can’t take this, can’t take their silent judgement. He needs to get out! Without direction he pushes through the bodies all around until he’s finally off the dancefloor. He hits a dead end, just booths and more people and- _a door_!

Alec doesn’t care that the sign on the door reads ‘emergency exit only’, this _is_ an emergency. He pushes through and finds himself in one of the tiny alleys, cobblestone underneath his feet and nothing but a bit of distant streetlight and the stars to light his way.

It’s pouring! On instinct he ducks his head between his shoulders and runs a few steps to another backdoor at the opposite house that has a small canopy above it. Once there he shakes his head and takes a deep, deep breath. The air tastes moist, like warm stone and rain.

What had he been thinking? Dancing like that, in front of everyone? With a _man_!

He takes another deep breath and rakes his hand through his hair, his gaze towards the ground. The cobblestones glisten wetly, reflecting the dim light in diffuse ways as drop after drop disturbs the surface anew. The pitter-patter of the rain is everywhere, enveloping him like a blanket, and he listens more closely. It’s almost like music, a never-ending melody, uniform and yet multi-faceted, like an orchestra playing the same song on different instruments. Hitting the canopy, the roofs, the cobblestones, it all sounds different and yet the same. It’s beautiful. And Alec finds that he can breathe easier now, the tension in his shoulders gone again, the incident on the dancefloor distant and easier to put aside. He looks up, watches the strings of rain as they appear seemingly out of nowhere against the dark sky and before he knows what he’s doing he reaches out his hand, out of the protection of the canopy.

The water tickles against his skin. It’s not as cold as he’s imagined but not warm either.

“There you are!”

He startles and pulls his hand back as his head jerks up. It’s indeed Magnus, ducking his head with a disgruntled look up at the rain while he hurries over under the protection of the canopy.

“Why did you run--” Magnus trails off, suddenly something sad and soft in his expression. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Alec.”

_I don’t know what you’re talking about._

_It’s not that, it’s-_

It’s already on his tongue: the lie, the evasion. It’s the first thing that comes to his mind, an instinctual reaction. But standing here in the rain in Alicante, with Magnus and his impossibly unfathomable eyes that he just wants to drown in, he doesn’t want to lie or hide.

“I could feel them staring. At us. Two guys, dancing--”

“So?” Magnus shrugs and takes a step closer. “Times change, Alec. People aren’t as uptight as they used to be. Anyway, Alicante is a party town. It’s all about having fun and enjoying oneself. No one is judging here.”

It’s difficult to process, even more difficult to believe, but maybe Magnus is right. Did they really stare or was he just feeling observed and made it all up with a too vivid imagination? He’s really not sure anymore. Great, now he feels stupid again.

Magnus grins, wide and cheeky and- arrogant. “And if they were staring, then because I look absolutely bootylicious tonight!” He straightens to his full height and pushes his chest out and gestures generously along his whole body.

Alec chuckles. And shakes his head at those antics, not really caring that he blushes a bit – because Magnus is right, he does look amazing. “You’re impossible!”

“Exactly!” Magnus exclaims, his wide eyes sparkling with mirth. “How did you guess my middle name?”

Now that’s just too much silliness for him. He laughs, still shaking his head. And Magnus just watches him with that beautiful smile on his lips that lights up his whole face.

“Now that’s much better!” Magnus says with no small amount of satisfaction.

Alec leans back against the wall. It’s a bit chilly now that it has cooled down due to the rain, but it’s also kind of nice after the hot humidity of too many people stuffed into a room. This time it’s Magnus who shakes his head.

“You really _are_ different. I’ve never seen anyone more relaxed in a cold, dark alley in the rain than on a dancefloor.”

Alec huffs. “Maybe that’s because I’ve never been on a dancefloor before.” Not that he’s overly familiar with cold, dark alleys in the rain either, but-- well--

The shock on Magnus’ face, his mouth slack with disbelief, looks almost comical. “You’re kidding, right?” Alec shakes his head. “Never? Not once in your whole life?”

“Never.” Of course he’s been to places with dancefloors, mostly for Izzy’s sake, but he’s never felt the desire to join the dancing masses. Always stayed at a safe distance, simply watching and making sure that Izzy was safe.

“What are you? Some kind of monk?”

Alec wants to laugh, but it gets stuck in his throat, the joke hitting too close to home. His face must have given him away, for Magnus backpadels at once.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay. Really. It’s just,” he pauses, licks his lips, unsure how to go on. “My parents. They’re strict and- I guess I’ve always wanted to make them proud. Be the perfect son, but- I never had a chance.” His voice comes out harder as the age old anger bubbles up again. “No matter what I do, they’re just- They think they’re protecting me, but it’s _suffocating_.” He breathes hard and his hands are balled into fists. He hadn’t intended for all of that to come out. Not at all. He’s only just met Magnus and now he’s throwing all this stupid baggage at him, although the other clearly simply wants to have a fun night.

“It seems as if they mean well.” For the first time that night Magnus’ words come out tentative, as if he isn’t sure what to say. Alec huffs at that. “They might overdo it or go about it the wrong way, but in the end they _care_.”

Something in the way he says that makes Alec frown. He looks over at Magnus, now leaning with his back against the wall as well, his arms crossed in front of his chest. There’s a hard edge to his jaw and a sharpness to his voice that sounds suspiciously close to jealousy. And yet it’s the look in his downcast eyes that really makes Alec wish he’d never opened his mouth in the first place. There, hidden away in those brown orbs lies a quiet yearning that tugs at Alec’s insides and he finds himself wondering what Magnus’ parents are – were? – like.

He’s still wondering how he can safe this, how he can chase that sadness away from the other’s countenance and get that lightness from earlier back. And with it that beautiful smile. In the end it’s Magnus himself who seemingly simply pushes the gloom away with nothing but a wave of his hand. An encouraging smile settles onto his lips instead and he turns sideways until he leans with his shoulder against the wall, facing him.

“But you’re here now. Just you. On your own. And Alicante is a party town. You can do whatever you want here, Alexander.”

Alec shivers at the use of his full name. At the way it sounds spoken by that velvet voice. Like a caress. Like a promise. Magnus is looking up at him now through his eyelashes. Playful. Enticing. Dangerous. The whole night he’s never been so aware of those few inches that separate them in height. His mouth is suddenly very dry, his heart beating incredibly loud in his chest. He can’t look away, a prisoner to those beautiful, intense eyes.

“Whatever you want.” Magnus says again, his voice barely more than a whisper. It sends shivers down his spine. There is no more playfulness in his gaze now as he pushes off of the wall and steps in front of him. Warm fingers touch his hand out of the blue. He startles, his breath hitches audibly, his skin tingles where those warm fingers intertwine with his own. Not once does he think of pulling his hand away.

“Whatever you want.” Magnus inches closer. Alec feels it more than he sees it. He’s aware of the rustling of expensive fabric each time Magnus moves. He’s aware of a soft, rich smell, creamy and a bit like wood and yet strangely sweet. It makes him want to sniff and follow that scent and bury his nose in it. He’s aware of the thin band of carefully trimmed beard that spans his chin and circles his mouth. Short, nothing more than a three-day stubble, yet it’s a sharp and rough contrast to the gentle contours of his face. He wants to reach out and run his fingers through it, wants to know how it feels against his skin.

And he’s aware of the soft texture of Magnus’ lips. Lips that come closer and closer.

And Alec just stares. He doesn’t move. He can feel Magnus’ breath tickle the sensitive skin of his lips and--

\--pulls away. He’s already against the wall, so he takes a step to the side to extricate himself. Hasty. Clumsy.

“I can’t.” It just bursts out of him and he can see the surprise and maybe even a tiny bit of hurt flicker through dark brown eyes before Magnus’ whole face just closes off. And then he smiles, just like before and yet different. There’s a distance there that wasn’t there before.

“It’s okay,” Magnus says and takes a step back.

No, it’s not okay. So Alec stumbles on, trying for an explanation. “I’m engaged. I have a fiancée. Her name is Lydia.”

Again Magnus scrutinizes him, like back at the bar, as if he could look right into him. Only this time it’s different. This time Alec can’t tell at all if Magnus likes what he finds there. He can’t read that strange expression on his face.

“And- is Lydia here? With you?”

Alec shakes his head. “No, she’s--”

“Elsewhere?” Magnus offers.

“Yeah. Elsewhere.” There’s no need to say anything else, even though he’s not exactly sure sure if Magnus really understands.

For a moment they just look at each other, holding each other’s gaze.

“Look,” Magnus finally says, “this is Alicante, a place to enjoy yourself. To do everything you want. It’s okay, if you can’t. But-- it’s still almost two hours till midnight. If you want to, you could come back to my house with me.”

 _Yes, I want to_.

He wants it so badly. He has never met anyone like Magnus, anyone who is so unashamedly himself. So full of life. It’s intoxicating and he wants more. He wants everything, which is scary in and off itself. It frightens him, this tidal wave of emotions within him. This isn’t how he’d imagined his first night in Alicante at all.

It’s just so confusing.

And he can’t. He shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but it feels inadequat.

“It’s okay.”

“I should- I should go.”

He barely takes a step away before he hears Magnus’ voice again. “What? In this weather?”

Alec only shrugs. He turns around to face Magnus, the golden pattern on his shirt glimmering like liquid gold in the dim light and the hint of sadness in his eyes only adds to his otherworldly beauty. “It was nice meeting you, Magnus.” The words taste bitter on his tongue.

“Yeah, you too, Alexander.”

Raindrops thud heavily and in quick succession against his head, his shoulders, soaking his hair and shirt within moments. Still, he walks away, although each and every step feels like a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to share your thoughts so far :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec can't get Magnus out of his head.  
> He just has to see him again...

** Alicante – one week later **

Magnus drives down the winding roads of Alicante. The sun is hanging low, casting its orange shine across the valley. He slows down for a moment just to watch the lake as it looks aflame, ignited by the sun itself. But then a house blocks his view and the moment is gone.

It doesn’t take long until he has to maneuver in between groups of young people, ready to enjoy their Saturday night. He ignores the parking places along the main road and parks his car around the corner in one of the smaller roads, right next to the club, not exactly an official place to leave your car, but who cares?

A lone figure is already waiting close to the entrance to Taki’s. An annoyed sigh leaves his lips as he rolls his eyes. This is _not_ how he’d envisioned this night to start. At all.

The second he steps out of his car, the blonde pushes off the wall and stalks closer on dark blue high heels, swinging her hips in a way that catches the gazes of many passerbys as well. Even here in the shadows between the houses her silver skirt shimmers iridescantly and her dark blue shirt reveals a sinful cleavage. She’s a sight to behold, no doubt, but it’s her too bright smile that can’t quite hide the desperation underneath that puts him off. Today even more than last week.

“Seriously Heidi, this has to stop!”

“Magnus, but-”

He simply walks on towards the club, though Heidi follows his every step with the sharp click of her shoes against the ground. Just like last week. “Do I have to red-light you?”

“What?” Heidi stops in her tracks, sounding truly shocked. Enough so, that he stops as well, although with a heavy sigh on his lips. He turns and faces her wide eyes, hurt and desperate and maybe a tad angry. “You wouldn’t-- Come on, Magnus, why won’t you just hear me out? Please?”

But he doesn’t need to, her expression tells him everything he needs to know. So instead he answers with a question of his own. “How many guys do you think are here in Alicante? Thousands? Tens of thousands?”

Her mouth turns into a thin line and she puts her hands against her hips. “I don’t care!”

“I’m just saying, there are so many other guys out there for you, just-”

“What?” she asks, her voice sharp as a knife. “The locals? Are you kidding me? They’re-- they’re _dead_!”

Just then a group of six people passes them, chatting and laughing, one guy boxing another in the arm who shouts back in indignation while one of the girls shakes her head at them. Magnus follows them with his eyes, before he cocks an eyebrow at Heidi. “Seem pretty alive to me,” he deadpans.

“I’m not looking for some cheesy romance, Magnus.”

“Look, if you’re looking for someone to fuck, why don’t you go to Pandemonium again?”

“But,” Heidi starts and it takes him a while to realize that she isn’t answering to what he said but talking on as if he’d never said a word at all, “I thought we had a connection.”

_Oh, shit!_

“It was just sex, Heidi. I thought we agreed on that.” Sympathy is bleeding into his voice, softening his annoyance a little. This is not what he wanted and not what he signed up for.

Heidi bites her lips, her eyes pleading with him for something he couldn’t give. “Well-- at first--”

“Oh Heidi,” he says and takes a step closer to put his hands onto her shoulders. “We had fun, but it was just sex.”

Her expression changes so fast he never sees it coming. The stining pain in his cheek comes out of the blue and yet, in hindsight, maybe not as surprising as he first thinks. He forces his hand to stay down to not press it against his burning cheek – although he takes them both off of Heidi – just as he forces himself to stay calm. He simply turns his head back to look at her.

“I’m sorry, Heidi.” He takes a step away from her. “I hope you’ll find your way to enjoy the town.”

 

***

 

Alec stares at his wardrobe, a number of different shirts and pants already strewn all over the place. Choosing clothes has never been a problem for him, simply because he doesn’t care much about what he wears. It’s of no importance to him. But today is different. He’s going back to Taki’s. He’s going to see Magnus again, at least he hopes so.

He squeezes into tight black leather pants and throws on a silvery shirt, sleeveless and silky and flowing airily around his torso. The pants are uncomfortable and just one look into the mirror has him blushing in embarrassment. No! Not in a million years!

Discarding both pants and shirt he slips into black dress pants instead and a dark green button down. It looks nice on him, unfamiliar but not bad, and yet he can’t help tug at the shirt every few seconds. No,this just isn’t him!

_You don’t try to be anyone else or fit anyone’s expectations. You’re just you._

The words, spoken by a voice like honey, fill his mind.

What is he even doing here?

Annoyed with himself he shucks off his clothes with haste and maybe more force than necessary and settles for a pair of comfy black jeans and pulls on a simple dark blue denim shirt. It’s a bit washed out, but he finally feels like himself. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and takes a last look at himself in the mirror.

He’s ready for the night.

 

***

 

Taki’s is just as crowded as last week. Young people milling about, eager to have some fun. A bunch of guys hang about the pool tables, cheering on a woman of maybe twenty-two in tight jeans and a strapless top who is about to make her move on the table. It’s similar with the dart machines, only the air hockey table seems free for the moment. The long bar is lined with people and the dancefloor is not a place he wants to be right now – or even think about.

Instinctively his eyes roam along the masses, glad for once for his towering height, scanning all those faces for one in particular. The moment he’d left that alley last week he’d already regretted it, but it has taken him the whole week to come to terms with that confusing swirl of emotions in his chest that were totally new to him.

He’s never done anything like this. How could he?

Still not entirely sure what to do he simply hopes to spot Magnus and then-- well, he would see about that part when it comes to it. His hands are shaking with nerves and the worst part is, he can’t even tell if he’s nervous about seeing Magnus again or about the chance of _not_ seeing him again.

That’s when he spots him. His stomach plummets and flies off, eerily light, all at once, and after a first halting stutter his heartbeat picks up speed, matching the driving beat of the loud music. His fingers are sweaty. But he’s here. Magnus is really here. Right over there, at the bar, sitting sideways with a drink in his hand, laughing with the woman on the barstool next to him. She’s beautiful with her open smile and that sparkle in her eyes. Her dark hair frames her face in a halo of tight curls; the gold of her big hoop earrings compliments her dark skin.

Alec swallows against the sudden tightness in his throat. Slowly he makes his ways across the club, berating himself for being an idiot. What did he expect? That Magnus would sit around moping, just waiting for him to come back? Damn, he is such an idiot!

He wants to go over and talk to him and yet the mere thought fills him with cold dread and panic. What should he even say? Especially after the way he’d left him in that alley last week? Maybe it’s best if he just leaves and go somewhere else. Maybe, but he just can’t do that either, so he ends up in a quiet corner instead, leaning against – well, more like hiding behind – a pillar. It allows for a good angle to watch, which isn’t creepy at all, and still, he just can’t stop it.

Magnus looks different than last time, yet just as amazing. How could he _not_ stare? His black pants flow along his legs like water, just as his shirt _looks_ like water. It’s made out of a dark blue material with other shades of blue woven into it. The collar is a different material, reflecting the light in iridescent ways. There’s no plunging neckline this time, no inch of skin revealed at all, even the topmost button of his shirt closed. Alec misses the glimpses of golden skin, but the tight fit of the shirt across Magnus’ chest and arms is just as mesmerizing, only in a different way. He licks his lips subconsciously.

The woman and Magnus chat for a while, then they head for the dancefloor. It’s a bit harder to keep them in sight now, but with his height he manages. They make for a good pair on the dancefloor. The woman with her fringed denim skirt and khaki neckholder top might not be a natural like Magnus, but she can certainly hold her own next to him. And she looks as if she enjoys herself. It looks as if they _both_ enjoy themselves.

He has to tear his eyes away. It’s hard, watching Magnus dance is like falling into a trance, it captures you and draws you in, the elegance and fluidity of his motions, and yet he _has_ to. Flushed and hot and cold all over he turns towards the bar. He needs a drink! To forget the thrumming pulse in his own veins, the heat that pools in his stomach just from watching. To fight the sting of jealousy with the burn of alcohol. To his own surprise he orders a martini. Stuck with the bitter drink he finds an empty booth and sits down, angry with himself and yet still fighting the urge to get back there and torture himself some more.

Two girls later – they’ve tried to talk to him, but he’s not really in the mood for talking – he’s twirling the empty glass in his hand, remnants of the bitter taste still on his tongue and he can feel the slight buzz in his veins. It’s oddly pleasant and he welcomes it as a convenient distraction. The shadows of two people passing by closely fall across him. A woman laughs, her voice deep and rich, and a male voice answers: “Maia, you are _devious_!”

Alec tenses instantly. He knows that voice. Dreamed about it. Longed for a whole week to hopefully hear it again. And now that he does he can’t focus on the words, his heart too loud all of a sudden, and then they are too far away to hear them at all over the music. But he can see them now, they squeeze into a free corner of a booth right across from him. Alec can’t help himself: he stares. Now, closer up, he can see the sparkling rings on Magnus’ fingers, the dark nail polish that seems to highlight every graceful motion of those slender fingers. He can see the silver eyeshadow that matches the brightly sparkling silver belt he’s wearing.

It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to notice that Magnus is staring back.

He can’t place that expression on his face. It’s not surprise, but it’s not disappointment either. It’s not annoyance, but it’s also not joy. Anyway, Magnus takes his glass up again and turns back to his companion – Maia – and they chat animatedly.

Alec should go.

He doesn’t move an inch. Instead he stares some more. And every so often Magnus casts a quick glance over to him. The longer it goes on the more distracted he seems in his conversation, until at some point Magnus says something to the woman, an apologetic look on his lips and gets up. Alec follows him with his gaze, watching him disappear into the men’s room. And before he knows what he’s doing he’s on his feet and following him.

Magnus is right there, washing his hands. Their gazes meet through the glass of the mirror. Now, in the harsh light of the restroom Alec spots strands of blue in Magnus’ hair where there had been blond ones last time. It’s subtle, you had to look closely to see it and yet his stomach does a strange flip at the sight of it.

A tall blond guy steps past him and leaves and then they’re alone in the room. And Alec is sure if he doesn’t speak now he won’t get another chance.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits and takes a few almost tentative steps closer.

Magnus frowns, grabs for a paper towel and turns around, absentmindedly drying his hands. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that, Alexander,” he drawls, giving himself time to assess the situation.

“I mean this,” Alec says, his nerves showing by the unnecessary force behind his words. He waves his hand around, fast and still sweaty; the gesture open for interpretation. He’s not even sure himself if he means for it to include just them or the club all around or Alicante as a whole. On the other hand-- “All of this! It’s just- I-”

“Alexander.”

Suddenly there’s an index finger hovering right in front of his lips, close but not touching, yet shushing him just as effectively. That reassuring smile is back on Magnus’ face, but now close again there’s something else hidden away behind his eyes. Something vulnerable. Something hopeful.

Or maybe he’s just seeing what he hopes to see.

“There’s no code of conduct to follow here. No rules. Just do what feels right to you. You can do whatever you want here.” Magnus pauses, swallows. It almost looks as if he hesitates, if only for a second, then he looks up and catches Alec’s gaze anew. “What _do_ you want, Alexander?”

His breathes come faster, a sudden tightness to his chest, a nervous tingling in his limbs. He hates this, feeling like this. And yet he’s never felt as alive as in this horrible, tense, beautiful moment.

He knows what he wants.

Determined he takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I don’t want to be ashamed.” It’s not what he was aiming for but it’s the truth.

Magnus licks his lips. “What about your fiancée?”

The thought of a blond woman with fierce virtousness in her veins and kind blue eyes has no chance to form in his mind, not with Magnus’ lips still glistening wetly from where he’d licked them just moments ago.

“She’s not here,” Alec breathes, his voice rough. Before his brain has a chance to ruin this again he reaches out and closes his fingers around the black leather of a necklace. And pulls. The remaining few inches he closes on his own, insecure yet determined and eager, nervous as hell and yet strangely calm all of a sudden. And then their lips meet, hot and soft and still a bit wet and the short beard scratches against his skin. Warm hands settle against his sides, fingers splayed as if to touch as much as possible. It’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

It’s not enough.

He opens his lips, licks across Magnus’ lips, nudges against him eager for more. He doesn’t have to plead, though, Magnus opens up willingly for him, invites him in and he tastes like alcohol, though something different than martini. Earthy instead of bitter. And then their tongues meet and it prickles, like an electric current, setting his whole body alight with energy. And the desire for more.

Until Magnus pulls back, a surprised grin on his lips. “You really drank another martini?”

Still a bit dizzy from the rush of endorphins through his system and the sudden end of their kiss – or the fact that he actually _had_ kissed Magnus – he simply says the first thing that comes to his mind: “It still tasted awful.”

Magnus laughs. Again that lovely rough sound and those even lovelier laughter lines-- Alec wants to see him laugh more often, wants to see him this open and carefree and happy all the time. “You never cease to surprise me, Alec. Now,” Magnus reaches out and curls his fingers around Alec’s hand. “Wanna come home with me?”

Alec nods, stomach fluttering and hands shaking a bit, but there is no doubt in his mind left. “Yes.”

 

***

 

The houses along the streets fly by as Magnus speeds along the increasingly curvy roads. Bit by bit they leave the busy parts of the city behind and climb higher and higher up the mountain side. Alec clutches the handle at his side so hard he’s sure his knuckles are white, but there are barely any other cars on the road and Magnus seems to know what he’s doing, breaking early enough before a switchback and then speeding up again.

“How long have you been here?” he asks, trying to distract himself from his anxiousness.

“Me? Oh, um, a couple of months. And I’m determined to enjoy my time here to the fullest!”

“So, you live here?”

“Oh no,” Magnus shakes his head. “I’m a tourist, just like you.”

“Yeah.” _Like me, sure._

He jerks up as a warm hand suddenly settles onto his left hand that rests upon his thigh, or better, claws at his thigh. Slender fingers stroke along his hand, trying to slip underneath it and gently pry it off his thigh. Alec looks up instead and finds himself at the center of attention of those dark brown eyes. Worry wrinkles Magnus’ brow.

“Are you okay?”

“Watch out!” he shouts instead of an answer and squeezes as far back into his seat as he can as he spots that set of bright lights that’s right in front of them and comes closer _fast_. A car horn blares, Magnus’ hand is gone, their car swerves to the side, back to the lane it’s supposed to be on and the other car passes by.

Alec is still panting for breath as Magnus stops the car right after, breathing heavily himself. It starts as a small giggle, but soon turns into full blown laughter, not exactly hysterical, but the sudden release of adrenaline might have something to do with it. Alec doesn’t join though, he doesn’t really feel like laughing with his eyes wide and only seeing those bright lights and with his heart hammering like crazy in his chest.

“Don’t _ever_ do that again!” he finally manages, his voice flimsy.

“Fine by-- _Jesus_ Alec, and here I thought you couldn’t get any paler!”

Startled out of his own shock by those words, still interrupted by occasional giggles, he reaches for the rearview mirror and pulls it his way. And clutches his hand against his cheek, trailing his fingers against his face. Magnus is right. “Shit, I look like a freaking ghost!” If he got any paler he’d be translucent!

“Well, hottest ghost I’ve ever met,” Magnus throws in off-hand with a shrug and a wink in his direction.

For the second time startled into a completely different direction he finds himself spluttering and lost for words. His cheeks feel hot now and he can’t help but wonder how ridiculous he must look _now_ with flaming cheeks as well. And suddenly he’s got these words from his childhood stuck in his head, only altered to his situation: _skin white as snow, cheeks red as blood and hair black as ebony_.

And then he’s laughing as well. Hard and uncontrollable and it feels silly and ridiculous and amazing. He blames the adrenaline – and maybe the martini, too, to some degree. Magnus joins in as well and by the end of it, when they finally calm down again, he’s got tears in his eyes and Magnus’ hand in his own.

It’s a pretty short drive after that. Magnus stops the car at a house that looks more or less like all the other houses in Alicante in the bright lights of the car, sandy-yellow stone and a roof of dark red tiles. The inside of the house feels immediately cozy. The brickwalls are showing at some walls, as well as the two pillars that run through the living room and around a fireplace on the opposite side of the windows. The colors are all warm, lots of red and yellow and gold and brown. Thick rugs are placed on the floor and seemingly endless rows of books fill the walls. And yet Alec strides right over to the balcony and takes a look down at the valley below. It’s quiet up here, the noise of a busy night far away. The lights of the city sparkle like stars, just closer and their light warmer. An almost full moon fills the sky with bluish white light and together they reflect in the surface of the dark lake, silver moon and golden city lights. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.

Just like Magnus. Who is right in front of him now and strangely quiet all of a sudden.

They just look at each other, searching the other’s gaze for any kind of hesitation or reluctance. Yes, he’s nervous, maybe a tiny bit afraid, but in a good way, an exciting way. He wants this.

Magnus reaches out first, strokes his hand across his cheek in a gesture that seems far more intimate than the kiss they’d shared before. His skin prickles everywhere those fingers touch, right until they rest against the nape of his neck. And then their lips meet again and it’s even better than before. Alec reaches out as well, wraps his hands around Magnus’ sides and pulls him closer until their bodies are flush against each other. It’s intoxicating, being this close, feeling the heat of Magnus’ skin underneath his clothes, tasting him, breathing him in.

When Magnus breaks the kiss, Alec holds on tighter, not afraid that the other would leave, but lightheaded. The soft panting of their breaths is the only sound in the night. And then there’s a hand on his shirt, just one, deftly opening the buttons along the front. He’s waiting in anticipation, maybe even gripping a bit too hard onto the other, but still, the second that warm hand actually touches the soft skin of his side and roams further up his back his breath hitches and he closes his eyes for a second to take this feeling in. It’s not a deliberate thought – that follows a few seconds later, his brain a bit slow and distracted at the moment – but he grabs a hold of the silky material of the shirt beneath his hands and pulls until he finally manages to free it of Magnus’ pants. He pushes his hands underneath, reveling in the involuntary ripple of muscles underneath his soft and exploring touches.

Magnus leans close, their foreheads touching, close enough that he can feel his lips against his own as he speaks, his voice rough and low: “I think we should relocate this inside.”

Alec hums a positive.

Neither of them moves for a while, unwilling to give up the touch of skin on skin or lips on lips. It’s Magnus in the end who pulls back and takes his hand to lead him inside.

“Magnus,” he says after they get rid of their shoes halfway through the bedroom. “You- you have to show me.”

Magnus pushes him backwards and Alec tumbles into the bright yellow sheets, his chest bared as his shirt flaps open. He watches closely as Magnus crawls across the bed, his eyes wide and eager, until he’s right on top of him. Dark eyes seeking his. “Anything you want, darling.”

 

***

 

The rustling of the sheets is the only sound in the room. It’s quiet and only lit by the moonlight spilling in through the big window right above the bed. Alec is on his back, his breathing finally back to normal, but his blood is still singing with bliss. Does it always feel like this? Magnus lies right next to him on his side, his head propped up on his arm. There’s a lazy smile on his face as he traces random patterns across Alec’s chest and stomach. Their legs are tangled together underneath the blanket.

If it were up to him, this moment would never end. He’s never felt so free in all his life, just being who he is.

“So,” Magnus breaks the quiet and Alec turns his head. The silvery light casts his face in an ethereal glow, like a beautiful creature not from this world. “You’ve never slept with another man before?”

He’d seen that question coming. It’s only fair, he still feels his cheeks heat up a bit as their activities play back in his mind. Explorations with hands and lips and tongue. Clumsy fingers trying to recreate what they’d just witnessed. Gentle guidances and affirmations. Touches and sensations like he’d never felt before. The sound of moans, rough and urgent. He clears his throat, focusing on the man in front of him. “No, never.” Then, after only the shortest of considerations, “Not with anyone.”

The ministrations on his chest stop abruptly and Magnus tenses visibly. “Not with _anyone_? You- why didn’t you say something? Before, I mean.”

Alec rolls onto his side so he’s face to face with Magnus. He captures the hand that has previously resided on his chest and entwines his fingers with Magnus’, who answers in kind. “Because of this. I didn’t want to weird you out.”

“I’m not weirded out.”

Alec huffs softly and smiles. He pulls their joined hands up and kisses the back of Magnus’ hand. “Yes, you are. It’s okay, Magnus. I wanted this and I trusted you to be my first.”

For a moment Magnus simply stares at him, but then the tension slowly bleeds out of him, which Alec is happy to see. “Thank you. For trusting me.” A small grin plays across his lips. “I could tell, you know, that you were inexperienced, I just didn’t think that I was your first.”

Alec winces. “That bad?”

“What?” Magnus’ eyes suddenly widen and he hurries to explain. “No, that’s not what I meant. Inexperienced isn’t a bad thing, it’s just- I could tell from the way you touched me. From the way you reacted to my touches. So-- _genuine_. It’s a rare and beautiful thing, Alexander.”

Lost for words Alec leans forward and captures Magnus’ lips in a chaste kiss instead. For a while they’re silent afterwards and Alec gets a little lost as he lets go of the hand he’s holding and lets his fingertips trail up and down that adjoining arm instead, mapping every hair and every muscle for future references.

“Does your fiancée know?”

He shakes his head. The resulting rustling of the sheets sounds eerily loud in the quiet room. “No.”

Magnus frowns. It casts streaks of dark shadows over his face. “But you’re engaged. If you didn’t – well – have sex, didn’t you at least talk about it?”

“It’s complicated.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Magnus must have picked up on that, because he does not inquire further. Instead he takes his arm out from under his head and snuggles his head into his pillow with a content sigh. It’s certainly no coincidence that he nudges a little bit closer in the whole process, a fact Magnus shamelessly uses to slide his leg up and down slowly, caressing Alec’s calf with his foot in the process.

It brings a smile to Alec’s face. He knows that if he ever wants an answer to that question that’s been burning inside of him for so long now, the question he couldn’t ask anyone before, then now is the moment.

“Magnus?”

“Hm?”

“When did you know?” Even now the second part of the questiongets stuck in his throat. But maybe spelling it all out isn’t necessary. Magnus seems to understand just fine without it, even though the answer isn’t quite what he expected, and yet not exactly surprising either.

“I like women, too, you know.” Magnus pushes his free hand against the edge of his pillow so that nothing obstructs his line of sight towards Alec. There’s something in his eyes again, this sadness that makes Alec want to reach out and hold him close. “Actually, I’ve been married to a woman. Been married a long time, but- I always knew. I’ve been attracted to guys, had a serious crush on my best friend Ragnor back when we were young.” Magnus chuckles. Clearly there are some stories there. “But then I met Dorothea and anyone else didn’t matter anymore. I still gazed after guys, though, felt attracted to some of them, co-workers, the occasional cute guy on public transport. I never acted on it, though. Here yes, but not then. Not once. Not as long as I had Dot.”

There’s a smile on Magnus’ lips now, but it’s different. Forced. Alec isn’t quite sure whom Magnus wants to fool with it. “I loved her. I loved her with all my heart, but-” His voice cracks a bit, yet the smile stays. “She chose not to stick around. So now it’s just me and I’m passing through and before I leave here I’ll have a good time.” A single tear runs down along Magnus’ nose, sparkling in the silver moonlight like a precious gem. “I’m just gonna have a good time.”

Alec can practically feel the pain hidden behind that beautiful face. The kind of pain that leaves scars. Ugly scars that never truly heal. He knows about those. Initially his own experiences had been on his mind, ready to be shared with someone for the first time ever, but now is not the time. So he stays silent and reaches out, letting go of his ministrations along Magnus’ arm to gently cup his cheek instead. With his thumb he wipes along his nose and across his eye, taking away the evidence of old pain.

Magnus smiles at him, not his fake smile but an honest one. And he places his own hand over Alec’s and pulls it away gently, kissing his palm in the process.

“Just a few more minutes till midnight. Will you lie with me till then?”

“Do you really need to ask?” Alec asks back. He doesn’t waste any time, though, and scoots over until they lie so close their bodies touch, warm and sticky skin against warm and sticky skin. He places his head on Magnus’ chest and wraps his arm around his side just as he feels an arm settle across his shoulders. A quiet kiss is pressed against his no doubt messy hair.

And like that they stay, wrapped around each other. There are no more words necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 17.000 in this AU ;)
> 
> See you in two days again, until then, a tiny teaser for next chapter, just one word:
> 
> Pandemonium


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec can't wait to see Magnus again.

 

Alicante – one week later

He can’t hold back the grin that seems to have taken up permanent residence on his face as he walks over the cobblestone of Alicante’s smaller alleys. There’s a swing to his steps and a lightness in his chest and he can’t wait to see Magnus again. Can’t wait to press that gorgeous man close again, breathe him in and kiss him senseless. This time he hasn’t lost time trying to find an outfit to impress when he finally could simply be himself and feel good about it? So, black jeans, boots and a dark green t-shirt it is this night.

Taki’s is just as full of people as every Saturday night.

Alec looks around, searching instinctively for that one person that would stand out – tall and handsome, hair up in dark spikes, dark kohl around his eyes and no doubt glittering or sparkling in some kind of way. The disappointment is heavy in his stomach as he doesn’t spot Magnus in the crowd.

_Don’t act like a lovesick teenager! The night has just begun. He’ll be here!_

So he gets himself a drink – this time he’s careful to order a coke instead of a martini – and searches for a free spot that also gives him a good vantage point over the club. The music thrums against his ears, hums right down to his bones, yet he barely hears it at all. His eyes constantly scan the room, come to an abrupt stop whenever something flashes in the lights, reflecting them back, but it’s never a golden pattern on a burgundy shirt. It’s never the blinking metal of rings or necklaces or an ear cuff. It’s never the gold or silver glitter of eyeshadow.

The disappointment upon not seeing him immediately has long turned to worry.

He crosses the club again to the bar and waves the barkeeper over. “Hey!” After his third try the guy finally comes over, looking distracted and clearly unimpressed the second he takes Alec in. “Meliorn, right? Have you seen Magnus?”

“Who?” Meliorn leans closer as if he hasn’t heard him properly with the noise all around – and Alec really hopes that that’s the reason and not Meliorn playing a game here. The way they’d acted two weeks ago he just knows that they know each other.

“Magnus! Have you seen him?”

Meliorn shakes his head. “Not today, no. Maybe he’s at Pandemonium.”

That place again. “What’s Pandemonium?”

Meliorns eyes widen a fraction, his lips pull up into a patronizing smile. “So innocent, how sweet.” Alec is just about to give him a piece of his ‘innocent’ mind when the barkeeper suddenly rolls his eyes and sighs. “Alright, it’s down by the lake. Leave the city to the south and follow the road, you’ll reach Pandemonium eventually. You shouldn’t go, though. It’s no place for someone like you.”

And then Meliorn is off again, pouring drinks and chatting animatedly with two women who ordered drinks.

Alec left Taki’s right away.

_It’s no place for someone like you_. What did Meliorn mean by that?

And why would Magnus be there instead of at Taki’s?

A frightening thought mixes itself into his worry for Magnus: is Magnus avoiding him on purpose? Did he do something wrong?

The long and dark meandering road that follows the lakeside isn’t exactly helping in setting his mind at ease. On the contrary, it’s too quiet out here and too dark outside the city, nothing to distract him from his own mind and just the right atmosphere for gloomy thoughts. The memories of hungry kisses and eager moans dance in front of his mind’s eye, whispered words and gentle touches. He remembers those last quiet minutes that they’d shared, wrapped in each other’s arm, holding each other close, skin against skin, fingers trailing idle patterns and underneath it all that calming heartbeat right beneath his ear.

No, Magnus wouldn’t just avoid him, would he? What they had, it hadn’t just been about primal urges or curiosity alone, there had been a connection. Magnus must have felt that, too. Right? No, something else must have happened. Some other reason that kept him from showing up.

But the one reason that comes to his mind, the one that is too prevalent to think around, is too horrible to contemplate.

So instead he walks faster. To keep on searching.

The red and green lights are what he spots first. It looks eerie from afar, how they reflect in the dark, still surface of the lake, as if the lights are coming from down below the surface somehow. Something roars up ahead and a short while later three bikes soar past him, so close they nearly hit him, the drivers laughing loudly.

Pandemonium looks nothing like Alicante. No golden walls of stone, instead it looks like an abandoned warehouse or factory, fit together with odd shaped pieces of metal. The bass of the music is so strong he thinks he can feel it even out here, a vibration in the air, a thickness that presses against his skin. The neon logo in big red letters flickers, every now and then reading ‘demon’ instead of Pandemonium. The people milling about outside send shivers down his spine – or maybe it’s the whole atmosphere here. Still, he pushes on.

Inside it’s just as crowded as Taki’s, but where Taki’s is light and people visibly enjoy themselves, Pandemonium is-- different. Dark. Creepy. More than once Alec takes a hasty step backwards from one of the patrons, sometimes disgusted, sometimes uneasy and sometimes just simply freaked out.

The music is loud and dark, thrumming through the air like something that’s alive and hungry. People all around mostly look as if they come directly out of a freak show, or a bondage studio. He’s surrounded by more black leather than he’s ever seen in his life. Leather pants and tops, skirts and vests, collars and nipple pasties. He spots a girl dancing ecstatically in a dress seemingly made out of black feathers. There’s a guy leaning against a wall, his torso only covered in thin metal chains that hang in hoops around his chest, only fastened to his collar. He’s pointing a long finger with a long, pointy nail at him, beckoning him closer by bending said finger, a hungry smile on his empty face.

And that’s the _really_ creepy part, the thing that has him shivering with unease: the look in their eyes. Forget about the half naked bodies and fetishes that are obscenely pushed right into his face, the hollowness in their eyes is _so much worse_.

Most of their faces are lax, their eyes glazed, either utterly drunk or drugged out of their minds. And those that aren’t all share this desperate, haunted look in their eyes.

Alec shivers and pushes on, past two women who make out – or have sex, the way they act and with barely any clothes on to begin with it’s hard to tell – right in the middle of the way. There’s a guy cradling a snake against his chest as if it were a lover. Why would Magnus ever want to come to a place like _this_?

Even in here Magnus should be easy to spot with his colorful shirts. Unless he dressed accordingly, which isn’t exactly a comforting thought. Alec checks out a dark corner full of couches and lounging people, some clearly not far away from unconsciousness. A slender, blond woman is on one of the couches, a guy with light blue hair across her lap, his ass bare. She says something, smirking, then brings her hand down hard against his bare flesh. He flinches yet makes no indication to get away from her. It’s hard to look away, the same way it’s hard to look away from a car crash. No, that’s not it, he _knows_ this woman. He’s seen her before, at Taki’s. It’s Heidi, the one Magnus had tried to avoid by using him as a decoy.

Alec shudders and goes on. No sign of Magnus at the bar. No sign of Magnus at the upper level. And no sign of Magnus on the dancefloor either. Instead he finds more empty faces. Some of them light up the second they spot him, like moths that suddenly find a light to fly up to. Hands are grabbing for him, touching his bare arms, trying to pull him in, to keep him to themselves. With his heart hammering in his chest he breaks free and hurries towards the exit, eager to leave this place and never come back.

That’s when he sees her, dancing lasciviously on a podium at the side of the dancefloor, another woman he remembers from the day he met Magnus: Camille.

She’s wearing a dark red dress, the color of blood. It’s tight around her slim figure with a plunging neckkline that reminds him of Magnus. The pale, bare skin of her throat is decorated with an elaborate golden necklace that spans all the way down to the edges of her dress. Her hair falls in delicate curls around her beautiful face, yet nothing about her seems delicate.

_S_ _kin white as snow,_ _dress_ _red as blood and hair black as ebony_.

And eyes cold as ice. She might look as lovely and innocent as Snow White at first glance but one look into her eyes is enough to know that she is anything but. She doesn’t share that haunted desperation of the others nor are her eyes glazed with drugs. She doesn’t move like she wants to get lost in the beat, no, she is in total control.

She is _at home_ here.

He knows it’s probably not his best idea, but it’s the only one he has left right now. She spots him right away as he squeezes through the dancing crowd towards her. Camille crouches down elegantly in her impossibly high heels, her face still a head higher than his due to the podium. A dangerous smirk plays across her lips and amusement sparks in her cold dark eyes. Before Alec can say anything she reaches out, her nails just as deep red as her dress, and caresses his cheek, her index finger trailing the line of his jaw.

“Look at that, a little puppy that’s lost its way.”

His jaw tightens in indignation and yet he ignores it. He’s here for a reason. “Have you seen Magnus?” She cocks an elegant eyebrow at him and before she can fob him off with whatever version of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ he quickly adds: “I’ve seen you talking to him, so I know you know him. Have you seen him? Tonight?”

For a second something sparks in her dark eyes, something almost impressed, but it’s gone just as fast and instead she smiles at him. It’s not a friendly smile. It’s dangerous and amused. And patronizing.

“Ah, another pretty boy has fallen into the trap. He’s good, isn’t he? Excellent even, if only he weren’t that-- naive.” Coming from her it sounds like something repulsive. “Did he do that thing with you? The thing with his tongue on your nipples?” She moans like someone who tastes an exceptionally delicious piece of food and watches him carefully out of slitted eyes.

Heat rises in Alec’s cheeks, not just from the memory – he knows exactly what she’s talking about and he hates that she knows it – but also from the anger that starts to boil in his veins. He’s not here to be mocked and he refuses to be used as a toy for her amusement. His shoulders straight, his hands balled to fists he holds her gaze evenly. “I take that as a no then. Thanks- for nothing!”

And with that he turns and strides away from her. It has been a mistake talking to her in the first place.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

Against better judgement he stops and turns his head back over his shoulder. She’s standing again, towering over him and all the other sorry creatures in here like a queen over her subjects. He can’t read her face as she beckons him closer. Alec sighs. He knows he shouldn’t and yet he walks back to her anyway.

She surprises him.

“Try a different setting. Sometimes he likes to change things up a bit. Try Lilith, or maybe the ‘Children of the Night’ setting. He fancies their sense of decadence.”

It’s not what he expected – neither the information nor getting it from _her_.

But it’s a start!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one's a bit shorter, but without Magnus there's just not much reason for Alec to linger ;)
> 
> I really like the way the conversation between Alec and Camille turned out. What do you think?
> 
> Also, another tiny teaser for next time:   
> Nightchildren, Seelies and Children of Lilith


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With nothing else to go by Alec listens to Camille's advice and checks out the Nightchildren-setting to hopefully find Magnus again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who don't know 'San Junipero': this is where the story gets a bit strange, but don't let it deter you. It's worth it, I promiss!

 

** Alicante – one week later  **

The ‘Children of the Night’ setting is not what he expected. Dark, gloomy, the hard noise of black metal or the melancholy sounds of goth music. What awaits him is something else entirely!

It’s still unmistakably Alicante, the houses nestled against the mountain, the shimmering lake in the valley, the snow capped mountains all around, and yet it’s completely different. The buildings are gleaming in glass and metal, sleek and modern, all smooth planes and hard edges. The streets run more straight and are neatly asphalted, every street, not just the main roads. No cobblestones. No meandering alleys. Just hard angles and reflecting glass.

And a bunch of flashy yachts on the lake.

The streets are filled with expensive sports cars in fiery red or cobald blue or sharp silver. Each one more expensive than the other. People are sitting in exquisite restaurants or posh looking cafés, the kind where a simply coffee alone probably costs a fortune by the looks of it. They’re all in super fancy clothes, the women in fine dresses or pant suits, the men in bespoke suits with shining shoes and expensive watches on their wrists.

Alec can only stare. He’s acutely aware of how underdressed he is for-- _this_.

Somehow he just stumbled into a holiday resort for the super rich.

Undeterred he strides on, though. He doesn’t need to like this place or feel at home here, he’s here to find Magnus and that’s what he’ll do: searching. Instinctively his feet lead him to where Taki’s usually is, only here he finds himself in front of a tall building with spotless mirror glass all around. The Dumort. Judging from the bulky bouncer and the few glimpses he gets everytime the door opens it still seems to be a club of some sorts, just the super posh, completely out of his league kind. One look at that bouncer and his no-nonsense glare he just knows that he doesn’t even need to try, not in his black cargo pants and black longsleeved shirt.

He hurries back to change, hating every minute that he wastes with something as nonsense as a stupid unwritten dress code. The dark grey suit he finds in his wardrobe doesn’t fit the way it’s supposed to, the sleeves a bit too short, the shoulders a tad too broad. The dark blue button down goes nicely with the suit and yet it doesn’t change the fact that he’s uncomfortable through and through in this whole outfit.

Back at the Dumort the bouncer weighs him up with a disapproving glare – it’s as if he knows right away that Alec is only pretending to fit in. The guy lets him in anyway.

His whole life Alec had been the one who didn’t fit in, who wasn’t part of life around him, always off to the sidelines. Different. But never like this, like in this place. The lavishly displayed riches all around put him off, in some ways even more than the freak show of Pandemonium. Everything is made out of gold and chrome, white leather and glass and something sparkling that reminds him of diamonds. It doesn’t need more than a quick glance around to tell him that he won’t find what he’s looking for.

He leaves again, wanders through the busiest areas of the city and checks out some of the restaurants or other clubs. He even heads out towards Pandemonium. It’s almost midnight when he reaches the place that doesn’t look all that different from the Pandemonium he already visited. Neither from the outside, nor the inside, although it’s not as crowded as the other one.

But the fact of the night stays the same: Magnus isn’t here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I thought of only leaving this as a chapter and let you wait another two days just like Alec has to wait another week, but with only 600 words that just didn't seem fair, so... next chapter will be up in a few minutes ;)
> 
> Also, instead of sending Alec back through different years/decades I thought this would be perfect to bring in the supernatural elements and the different races of the Downworld. I hope you like the idea :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No luck so far...

**Alicante – one week later  **

Why this setting is called ‘Children of Lilith’ is beyond him. He doesn’t know much about mythology, but the few things he dimly remembers have nothing to do with what he finds himself in.

This Alicante has nothing to do with either of the ones he’s seen before apart from the mountains and the lake. Where before there was a certain uniformity to the houses, be it honey colored stone with red tiles or glass and steel, there is nothing of the sorts now. _This_ city can only be described as chaotic. _Exotic_. No two houses look the same. It’s a wild amalgamation of different forms and styles and cultures from all around the world. A typical victorian house next to yellow stone decorated with colorful fabrics and carpets; atraditional japanese house with its tell-tale roof right next to what looks like a gigantic tipi.

It is absolutely crazy. And full of screaming colors. Everything about this screams ‘too much’ and yet it works in a way that leaves him stunned.

The people around here seem just as different from one another as the houses are. Some are wild and dancing in the street, singing and laughing loudly, others keep to the corners, watching it all with a certain aura of contempt. The variety of clothes is just as wide, if not wider. In less than two minutes he spots possibly everything from a silky kimono to a woman clad in nothing but furs.

Just as in the ‘Children of the Night’ setting there is no Taki’s here as well. Instead he finds a giant library in it’s place. People mill about inside as if it were a coffee shop, meeting friends, discussing books in groups or simply sitting back in a corner, reading. It’s quiet and peaceful in a way that speaks to him. And it’s not just the library, it’s everything he’s seen so far. People here have a good time, they’re laughing and joking and enjoying themselves, yet with far less partying involved. People here don’t seem to care about status or race or the excentricities of others. It seems, it’s more about knowledge here, and literature and discussion and just being together. And that in the most unprejudiced way he has ever witnessed.

Magnus isn’t in the library.

“Oh, hi!”

Startled – in general and by the somewhat familiar voice – Alec turns around to see a black girl curled up in a brightly colored bean bag chair with a book on her lap. She’s dressed rather simple in a dark skirt and patterned tights and a denim jacket. He remembers her from his first night in Alicante. She’d wanted to play air hockey with him. He doesn’t even know her name.

“Um, hi,” he says, unsure what else to say.

“Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, um, I didn’t expect to find a familiar face here.” Which is not true, strictly speaking, he’s hoping to find Magnus after all.

She closes her book, one finger in between the pages, and gestures at the beanbag chair she’s occupying, a shy yet hopeful smile on her face. “Want to join me? The books in this place are amazing.”

Alec rubs his neck, uncomfortable and already feeling the time run away from him. Tick tock. “Sorry, but I’m looking for someone. Maybe next time. Bye.”

He leaves with quick strides, feeling bad for ditching her for a second time. But not for long, soon his search takes up his mind again. He looks outside next, checks the places where most people seem to mingle, he even walks up all the way to where he remembers Magnus’ house to be, hoping that it would still be here in this strange version of Alicante. He’s lucky – it is right where it should be – and yet...

Magnus isn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, since there's one other - even shorter - chapter left, you'll get that today as well :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it gets even stranger...

 

**Alicante – one week later  **

The settings Camille had told him would be the most likely had been failures so far. There’s no way for him to know if she’d told the truth or if she’d led him down the wrong path. It doesn’t really matter now anyway, he would still keep on searching.

He’d thought the Lilith setting would be the strangest thing he’ll ever see. He’d thought the Nightchildren setting would be the one he’d feel most uncomfortable in and out of his depth.

He has never been so wrong in his life! Which is certainly due to a serious lack of imagination, because no way he could’ve ever come up with something as strange and eerie as _this_.

The Children of the Fae.

He feels like Alice in Wonderland. As if he has somehow landed right in the middle of some drug induced dream of a fantasy world. The whole city is made out of wood, each house, each building, each street light. The streets are packed earth. The architecture is totally crazy and the buildings seem strangely alive, as if they would move the second you look away. Fine streams of water are cascading down the mountain and through the city, filling the air with an almost musical lapping sound. It’s beautiful and yet every hair on his body stands on end.

It’s just something about this place. Maybe it’s _too_ different. Maybe it’s something else.

There aren’t all that many people, at least not compared to the other settings. They are just as strange and unreal somehow in their airy clothes and long hair, flowers and leaves woven into it, dancing barefoot to a music that only they could hear. It’s almost like hippie meets ‘Lord of the Rings’.

Almost.

If it weren’t for that intangible feeling of wrongness. Of danger. He couldn’t point a finger on it and he has no inclination to stay long enough to find out what it is. The sooner he is out of here the better. He can’t fathom – not one bit – how anyone would want to come here, let alone stay here, _live_ here. The mere thought gives him goosebumps.

It’s close to midnight, but no sign of Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Magnus will be back in the next chapter!  
> See you in two days!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been four weeks!
> 
> Four weeks since he last saw Magnus. Four weeks since they had sex. Four weeks since they lay cuddled in each other’s arm, bathing in soft caresses as they waited for midnight.
> 
> Part of him wonders why he’s still looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far it's been a pretty mild rollercoaster ride, emotion-wise. But be prepared: it gets wilder and more bumpy now (but the really steep drops are still a few chapters away).

 

**Alicante – one week later  **

It’s been four weeks!

Four weeks since he last saw Magnus. Four weeks since they had sex. Four weeks since they lay cuddled in each other’s arm, bathing in soft caresses as they waited for midnight.

Part of him wonders why he’s still looking.

The other part – the bigger one – gets more and more determined the longer it takes, that quiet desperation within his chest urging him forward.

By now he’s pretty sure that Magnus has been avoiding him on purpose that first week. Now it’s either that he’s hiding in a setting Alec hasn’t checked yet or by now they’re missing each other as they both jumped wildly from setting to setting. It’s a possibility he is very much aware of and yet doesn’t dare think about.

His initial worry has turned to annoyance a while ago, but right now there’s only this simmering anger left. He just doesn’t understand how Magnus could do such a thing. Sure, they only just met, but the things they had shared with each other… that has to mean something, right? And he doesn’t mean the sex, it’s their conversations that come to mind. Sharing memories of love lost and admissions of virginity, that’s not what you do with someone you plan on never seeing again. Right?

He doesn’t know anymore if he’s overreacting or if there’s some kind of code to this that he just doesn’t know about. To be honest, by now he doesn’t really care. He only wants answers. He wants to look Magnus in the face and get the answers he deserves.

Maybe he should just forget about it and move on, but whenever he thinks about it there’s this twinge in his chest. That hopeful and naive part of him that simply wants Magnus back.

The ‘Children of the Moon’ setting is on the list for tonight. It’s his last hope, more or less. These last weeks he has heard people talking, always in hushed tones. There are rumors about a sixth setting, a demon setting, yet everyone simply calls it ‘Edom’. He hasn’t heard all that much about it, just enough to know that it takes a certain kind of clientel to want to visit there – let alone live there – and after everything he’s seen that says _a lot_. The thought of it scares him and though it’s just for a few hours he’s unsure if he’s willing to go that far to find Magnus.

But would Magnus really go _there_?

_How would you know? You barely know him at all._

He releases a sigh of relief as he finds Alicante almost the same as in the ‘Children of Angels’ setting, the default setting. The same city, same buildings, same cobblestone, just the honey-colored stone is missing and the houses are build out of regular stone walls in different shades of grey. The familiarity puts him more at ease than he would’ve thought. The streets are full on a Saturday night, the people all around ready to enjoy a good night out. They’re mostly passing him in bigger groups. In fact, he thinks he barely sees anyone alone, neither on the streets nor inside the ‘Hunter’s Moon’ – this setting’s equivalent of Taki’s. Both clubs even look almost the same. The music is different, though. Hard rock. And there are not so many fancy dresses, people mostly seem to prefer a slightly simpler style here. Lots of denim, leather jackets, there are even one or two lumberjack shirts around.

For the first time he doesn’t feel like sticking out in his black sweater and army green jeans. Alec wonders if there are any other differences, bigger ones that he might not have noticed so far, but he loses his train of thought as he spots a set of very familiar spikes of hair. Adorned with a few strands of white.

It _is_ Magnus, no doubt. His striking features catch the eyes even more in this surrounding than back at Taki’s. With his dark grey pants – with tassels, there are actual _tassels_ dangling at his side – that silky light grey shirt with dazzling lines of silver sequins on it, the top four buttons undone and a bespoke blazer with overlapping geometrical patterns in purple and black he certainly sticks out like a sore thumb. A sparkling sore thumb.

Alec stares. It’s all he can do.

There he is, the man he’d been looking for for _weeks_ and he not just looks as amazing and unfazed as ever, he’s also in the middle of an animated air hockey battle with the girl from the library. A tall blond guy is standing next to the hockey table, a drink in hand as he comments the match or offers advice. Whatever it is, judging from the annoyed faces of the two players and the blond’s knowing grin, he’s teasing them. And he does it on purpose.

Magnus is leaning closer to the table, his brow furrowed in concentration, but he’s smirking nonetheless. His necklaces dangle down, almost touching the table. He’s having fun.

Alec steps closer, unable to comprehend this scene.

They start and the clucking of the puck sounds eerily loud in his ears. They’re both good, their movements fast and mostly coordinated instead of hectic and they laugh. All three of them. Then the puck thuds into one of the goals and the girl throws her arms up in victory and whoops. The blond offers her a high five and Magnus bows down like in one of those historical movies, probably to acknowledge her victory. It looks ridiculous and judging from the grins all around that’s the gist of it.

Magnus gets up again and turns to reach for his drink.

And freezes for a second, like a deer caught in headlights. Shocked. And not in a good way.

“Hi.” It’s all that comes out of Alec’s mouth. Nothing but a surprised and weak syllable.

Magnus composes himself quickly, at least it seems like it on the surface. He turns back to the other two – the girl is waving at Alec, albeit a bit awkwardly. “Sebastian, would you take over for me? I-- I need a trip to the men’s room.”

“Sure,” the blond says and winks at the girl. “No need to hold back on my account, Maureen.”

And then Magnus rushes past him, not a word, not even a glance.

_What the hell?_

Alec catches up with him surprisingly quick, but it takes two “hey”s and grabbing on to his arm to stop him in his tracks.

“What?” Magnus hisses at him. His necklaces knock against his chest after being pulled off by the force of his sharp spin. There’s something harsh in his features, something cold in his eyes. It’s like a wall that’s suddenly in between them and Alec has no idea why it’s there or how to cross it.

“What are you doing here?”

Magnus crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I like a change of scenery from time to time?”

Alec frowns. “But _this_? Here? This isn’t you.”

Magnus’ lips turn into a thin white line. Each of his words is spoken with emphasis and care, the silent tone dangerous and Alec wonders how it had come to this. “What do you want, Alec?”

His mouth drops open. “What do I-- I was _looking_ for you!”

“Well, you found me. Mission accomplished. You can leave now.”

Alec stares. He doesn’t understand. “But-”

Magnus shakes his head, interrupting him right away. “You really don’t get it. I don’t owe you anything!”

Then he turns around, the motion hard and sharp, and hurries off. Leaving Alec behind. Dumbfounded. And hurt.

And angry! Who does he think he is that it gives him the right to play with people like that? It seems he’s learned more from Camille than she realizes.

Alec follows Magnus to the men’s room. It’s not hard to do with him being the only flashy, glittering guy in the whole club. The door crashes against the wall, maybe he’s used a bit more force than absolutely necessary. At least it gets a reaction out of Magnus – who is luckily the only occupant of the room at the moment.

Magnus startles and takes a step back from the sink, facing him. It only lasts for a second then that wall of indifference and annoyance is back on. “What part of ‘I don’t owe you anything’ did you not understand?”

“This is not about who owes who. This is about manners, about simple decency!” Alec doesn’t belief this. It’s as if he’s looking and talking to a completely different person that coincidentally shares the same face. Maybe he’s new to all of this, but _this_ isn’t right and it pisses him off. And the fact that it hurts to see that cold look in those dark brown eyes where a warm smile used to reside only makes it all worse. And so it all blurts out of him. “You don’t sleep with someone or talk with someone, open yourself up like that and then simply vanish without a word. You just don’t.”

“You don’t get it!”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Alec interrupts him, not caring for being rude. “You hid from me, Magnus! You could’ve at least told me that you don’t want to see me again. Or were you too scared to face the guy you’re about to hurt? A coward _and_ an asshole, hm? Well, guess what, you don’t know me!” His breath rushes out of him, his shoulders shaking with tension, with anger, with hurt. “You don’t know what this means to me.” It comes out more feeble than he would’ve liked, but it’s the truth.

“Well, you don’t know me either, Alec. And yet I told you from the start that I’m here to have fun. This-” Magnus waves his hand in a big flashy gesture that envelopes all of their surroundings, “ _all of this_ is supposed to be fun. But _this_ ,” this time he points first at Alec then himself, “this isn’t.”

Underneath his make-up and carefully controlled expression Magnus looks hurt.

‘You have _no_ reason to be hurt!’ he wants to shout, but he doesn’t. Instead he lets his disappointment show.

“So you don’t feel bad at all?” His voice sounds sharp. Accusatory. “Well, you should. At least you should feel _something_.”

There’s nothing more for him to say and nothing more he wants to hear right now, so Alec turns around, his shoes squeaking against the tiles, and heads out. Out of the restroom, out of the club where he takes a deep breath of fresh air.

Only now does he feel the frantic beat of his heart.

  


***

  


The door falls shut with a bang.

Just the kind of finality he’d wanted. Then why does it hurt so much?

Magnus turns back. He doesn’t know the man who’s looking back at him out of the mirror.

The pain and anger and disappointment in Alec’s face… he can’t get it out of his head. _He_ had put them there. It’s his fault, his alone. He never wanted this. Never wanted any of this.

He stares at his reflection, stares at the ugly monster underneath the shiny exterior. He lashes out, without an active thought to do so, he just does. Balls his hand into a fist and punches it right into the face of the man in the mirror.

The glass breaks, fractures run out across the mirror, his reflection distorted beyond recognition. He wishes his hand would hurt. He’d deserve it.

But of course it doesn’t. He runs the fingers of his other hand across his knuckles which should’ve split. His skin is still smooth. Unharmed. Unhurt.

It’s not fair.

None of this is. And Alec is right. He’s a coward. And an asshole. He shouldn’t have run like that. But he knows exactly what he should do now.

He hurries outside, scanning the crowded club for any sign of Alec – he’s usually easy to spot, but with all of the people around clothed in simple and mostly dark clothes it’s harder than expected. Anyway, it’s just to be certain, since he’s pretty sure Alec is long gone with partying not really his thing. So he runs outside and cranes his neck, looking up and down the main street, but there’s no tall guy in sight anywhere.

There’s a couple on the other side of the street, though, leaning against the hood of a car, clearly flirting.

“Sorry, have you seen a guy in his early twenties? Dark hair, black sweater? Tall as in really tall? Taller than me?”

The guy – an Indian judging from his features – shrugs, his expression makes no secrets of his annoyance at being interrupted. The woman at his side on the other hand pushes an errant strand of her brown curls back behind her ear and nods upwards with an uncertain ‘well’ and an apologetic half-smile.

Magnus follows her gaze and for a second he forgets to breathe. It’s Alec, sitting on the edge of the roof. His feet dangling precariously over the side.

“Shit!”

  


***

  


It’s surprisingly quiet up here, just the faint beats of music and a distant background hum of voices from the street. The view is nice, not as spectacular as from Magnus’ place, but nice. He’d needed to get away, to leave the noise and the people behind to think and strangely enough the fire escape had caught his eye. The house opposite the Hunter’s Moon is one of the few buildings in Alicante with a flat roof. For once luck has been on his side.

He’s sitting on the balustrade, his feet dangling in the air and yet even up here he can’t stop replaying that moment from right back in the restroom. If he hadn’t been so naive he would’ve known right from the beginning, right from the moment he’d met Magnus. But he’d been too flustered, too surprised with suddenly finding himself in a conversation with a man like that to properly process the other conversation that had taken place. The one with Heidi. _But last week-- Was last week._ That should’ve told him all there was to know right from the start.

Alec isn’t the first one. Magnus had done the same to Heidi. _With his help_!

God, he’d been so blind. How many times had Magnus told him that he’s here to have fun. Just that, fun. Nothing else. But he had never connected the dots.

He huffs a laugh. He’d just remembered something else from that first night. Camille had been there as well, he’d heard their conversation, had heard what Magnus had told her: _Camille, what are you doing here? Looking for a new one? Got bored already?_ Magnus’ voice had been dripping with displeasure and yet, in the end, he’d done just the same, hadn’t he?

No, Magnus isn’t like Camille. He _can’t_ be. He’s seen Camille at Pandemonium, those eyes cold as ice. She doesn’t care for anything. Maybe she once had, but not anymore. Magnus isn’t like that. He’s gentle and caring, he’d cried when he’d been talking about his former wife for God’s sake! He can’t be like her.

Alec sighs and tries to force it all out of his mind. It’s over and there’s nothing he could do about it now. His anger is gone anyway and sitting here brooding until midnight strikes? Not the kind of entertainment he’d had in mind for this evening.

A woman giggles somewhere below. He looks down, watches the people hanging out around the entrance of the Hunter’s Moon, chatting and laughing. There are others who walk up or down the streets, in pairs, in groups, only a few are alone. A group of five is playing frisbee of all things on a nearby square.

He watches. And he can’t help wondering.

The squeaky rattling of the fire escape distracts him from his musings. When the noises get closer he eventually looks up, just long enough to see purple and the sparkle of silver sequins. And an alarmed face. Alec turns away again and gazes down at the people below. He can hear Magnus climb over the balustrade and onto the roof, though.

“Please tell me you’ve got your pain-slider set to zero.” Magnus’ voice is shaky with carefully controlled worry, his words spoken with caution as if he were trying to calm down a frightened animal.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I think so.”

Magnus is coming closer, his steps audible on the rough surface of the rooftop. “Okay, listen-”

“How many of them are dead?” Alec asks instead. He’s been wondering about it for a while now. His eyes follow a brown haired girl and an Indian guy as they head inside the Hunter’s Moon.

“Um- you mean full-time residents?” Magnus struggles with the sudden change in topic.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know.” Magnus steps closer, Alec can feel him, then see him out of the corner of his eye as he puts his hands on the balustrade and looks down at the people below. “Eighty percent? Eighty-five?”

That’s about the same number that he would’ve guessed himself. Still, it’s odd thinking about it. Looking down at all those people and knowing that most of them are dead.

Magnus carefully sits down on the balustrade next to him, although with his feet firmly planted on the roof. One of his hands lies between them on the stone. It’s not close enough to touch, but close enough to grab him quickly. The thought almost puts a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry!” And there is the warm honey again in that beautiful voice.

This time, Alec _does_ smile, albeit a small one. And he looks up at Magnus. “I’m not gonna jump.”

“I know,” Magnus replies nonchalantly, but the relief in his voice betrays his lie. A myriad of emotions are swimming in those dark eyes and there’s a strain in his features that has nothing to do with his worry about him jumping. It’s the expression of someone who’s fighting with himself.

So Alec keeps quiet and waits.

“I’m sorry!” Magnus says again. And he means it, that much is for sure. “Even before I came here I’ve closed myself off, not willing to feel anything for anyone, no matter if man or woman. And I was determined to keep it that way here. Just have some fun. It’s better that way.”

Alec can’t hold Magnus’ gaze, so he looks down at his hands instead as they fiddle with the seam of his sweater. Actually hearing the reasoning behind Magnus’ behavior hurt just as much as not knowing. A warm hand suddenly rests on his knee, lightly, barely touching, but it’s enough to make him look up. And there is Magnus, looking at him with wide eyes so full of wonder and pain all over his face.

“And then you came along and you’ve-- you’ve unlocked something in me. You weren’t even _trying_. It just-” Magnus huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “It freaked me out. It still does. I didn’t plan on _liking_ anyone here – not _here_ – and then you-- you’re just totally freaking inconvenient, you know?”

Magnus’ voice is shaking.

The grip on his knee gets increasingly tighter, as if Magnus needs something to hold on to. Maybe he really does, untethered and lost as he looks. Something in Alec twinges painfully.

Magnus swallows. “I just don’t know how long there is. And I can’t-” This time his voice breaks completely. His eyes are shimmering with unshead tears and the open and honest vulnerability he’s faced with pierces Alec’s heart. He’s never seen him like this, agitated and insecure and afraid and _raw_. Never, not even that night when he’d been crying.

“I-- I wasn’t prepared for you--”

Without further ado Alec reaches out – he can’t watch this a moment longer, can’t watch him this hurt – and cradles that beautiful face in his hands. Magnus blinks at him in surprise, tears finally falling and Alec thinks that it’s just not right that they’ve only met three times and two of them he’d made him cry. He promises to do better. He’d much rather see his radiant smile again. Or the gentle one that he’d only ever shown in the privacy of his home.

A gentle smile to match the one currently on his own lips.

Alec leans forward and kisses him, this impossible, infuriating, stupid, wonderful man. Kisses him with everything he has. And maybe – at least he hopes so – he’ll even kiss that lingering sadness from his eyes.

  


***

  


The sheets are cool against his still heated skin. He’s humming, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and smiling. He’s happy. Just simply happy, lying here in this bed together with Magnus – finally with Magnus again and the depth of his relief to have him back is something that might need further contemplation, but not now – still floating on the subsiding waves of endorphins.

It had been different this time. Needy and passionate and desperate, all panting breaths and strong grips with fingers digging deep into each other’s flesh to hold the other close, to not lose them again, to make sure that this is real. A constant affirmation towards one another that they’re really here, together.

Magnus is still lying on top of him, seemingly with no intention of leaving his new-found resting place – not that Alec would want him anywhere else. It is nice to feel his weight on him, so real and grounding. Magnus has his arms crossed on Alec’s chest and his chin rests on one of his wrists, a lazy and wondrous smile on his lips. And in that moment he just knows that he doesn’t want to miss that smile ever again.

“You really went to the seelies to look for me?”

Alec had told him about his search on their drive to the house and Magnus had told him that the residents of the fae setting like to call themselves ‘seelies’. Which is far from the strangest thing he’s heard or experienced these last weeks.

Magnus raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re braver than I thought!”

“Hey!” Alec complains and quickly pinches the soft skin at Magnus’ sides.

The other man yelps and startles, trying to flinch away from the offending hands while he glowers down at him with an indignant frown. “That was a compliment!”

Alec stares right back, unimpressed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

They stare at each other, until his self-control betrays him and his lips twitch. The following grin is inevitable. Magnus shakes his head, albeit smiling, and rolls his eyes at him. Alec isn’t sure if he’s ever been this comfortable with anyone in his life, apart from his siblings that is. He brings his hands up again – Magnus’ involuntary jerk as his hands touch his sides again puts a cheeky grin on his face – and traces them up Magnus’ back over his shoulders and to his upper arms, mapping every muscle on their trail, the motion smooth and unhurried, until his fingers close around his arms in the end, keeping him right where he is. The grin is gone now, leaving behind nothing but a cautious, hopeful gaze.

“Will you be here next time?” _Here, with me_. Alec thinks it, but it doesn’t need saying. Although his instinct tells him that yes, Magnus will be back this time, he’s still wary. He’s been wrong before, after all.

Somehow Magnus’ expression softens even further and Alec doesn’t want to leave. Midnight can’t be far, but he’s not ready. He wants to hold on, wants to fall asleep cuddled against Magnus’ warm body and wake up to his smile. Magnus nods and pushes up a bit, enough that Alec has to actively keep himself from clutching those arms tighter and keep him from leaving. But Magnus isn’t leaving, as he learns a moment later, when soft lips press against his own in a sweet kiss.

When he blinks up afterwards, Magnus’ face is right there, his eyes shining with something Alec couldn’t define. “I’ll be there. No more running. Promise!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're back together again. As it should be!
> 
> Will Magnus keep his promise, though? Find out in two days time!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus has a surprise planned for Alec

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this moment of sweetness and fluff!!!

** Alicante – one week later **

And Magnus keeps his promise.

Although, as Alec walks towards Taki’s – back in the default setting again – his stomach is fluttering with apprehension as well as anticipation. If Magnus really wouldn’t show-- he doesn’t know if he could take it a second time. But all of those anxious thoughts are forgotten the second he turns around the last corner.

Magnus is right there in front of Taki’s, waiting for him next to his car in what has to be the most casual outfit Alec has ever seen him in – boots, tight black jeans and a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up mid-arm. Silver necklaces dangle across his chest and leather bracelets adorn his slim wrists. Although surprisingly unremarkable the close fit of this ensemble only accentuates his slim waist and broad shoulders and arms – not to mention those lovely thighs – so, all in all, even casual like this he’s turning heads.

Magnus greets him with a kiss, right out here in the open. Alec freezes for a second, feeling the shocked looks of onlookers at the back of his head, but that little content sigh from Magnus’ lips is worth his attention far more than the ‘hurt’ feelings of people he doesn’t even know. As it turns out, he’s worried over nothing and Magnus has been right: no one cared. Not one person around spares them more than a fleeting glance.

“Hop in, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

A short time later they’re a little outside the city at the lakeside. It’s quiet, just a few other people walking across the pebble beach along the lakeshore. A gentle breeze is blowing through the trees closeby and ruffling his hair. From here one has an amazing view back over the city, nestled against the mountains, as well as the long valley up ahead, the snow on the mountain tops glittering in the late evening sunlight. Looking out over the lake like that it’s not the first time that he thinks: ‘Clary would murder someone to draw this!’

“Who’s Clary?” comes a muffled voice from behind him.

Has he said that out loud? He hasn’t noticed.

“She’s my sister in law,” he explains, still captivated by the view, then adds as an afterthought. “She’s an artist.”

A distracted hum is all the answer he gets. Magnus is obviously still rummaging around in his car. Alec could offer his help with whatever he was doing, but this place fills him with a serenity he’s rarely ever felt. The rhythmic lapping and gurgling of water makes him close his eyes and simply listen to the nature all around with his face turned towards the sinking sun, his nose up in the air, breathing it in, the smell of water and seaweed and sun-warmed stone. And he smiles.

“Come!”

As he opens his eyes, Magnus is a few feet away, a jacket – that’s far from unremarkable as far as he could tell – dangling over his shoulder held by only one finger, a blanket tugged under his arm and a basket in his hand. His eyes are sparkling with excitement.

Alec follows Magnus to a wooden jetty that reaches at least fifteen yards into the lake and he watches him, a bit dumbfounded, as he spreads the blanket on the very end of the jetty and produces grapes and strawberries, buttered baguette and a bottle of champagne out of the basket.

“What’s this?” he hears himself ask, definitely caught off-guard.

Magnus looks up at him, kneeling on the blanket, the bottle of champagne in hand. He’s openly amused. “A picnic?” The ‘what does it look like, dumbo’ isn’t voiced, but it’s certainly implied.

“Yeah, I can see that, but-” He’s lost for words, unable to voice what’s on his mind. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it – he does, _so much_ – but this is so unlike Magnus, or at least the Magnus he’s gotten to know so far that he’s not sure what to make of it.

Magnus reaches out for him with a smile. Alec takes the offered hand and follows the gentle tug of it until he’s kneeling on the blanket as well. “Well, I gathered crowds and dancing aren’t exactly your thing and although Alicante is designed as a party town it has more to offer than that. And I wanted to do something that you would enjoy.”

Alec is not sure what to do with that sudden, intense warmth in his chest, so he sits down properly and smiles, but it’s not enough. It’s utterly inadequat in comparison. So he grabs for Magnus, pulls him close and kisses him. “I love it!” It’s still not enough, but he’s getting there. And he wouldn’t mind seeing more of that dopey grin.

With a loud ‘pop’ Magnus opens the bottle and makes a show of pouring them each a glass. They get comfortable on the blanket and raise their glasses to a wonderful night. The champagne is something else he’s never tried before, but it’s nothing like the martini. The sensation of those tiny little bubbles as they explode against his tongue is quite enjoyable. Listening to the soft sizzling of the bursting bubbles in his glass he lets his eyes roam over the lake again.

“This is beautiful. So much more than with all those ugly luxury yachts floating about.”

“Ah, the Nightchildren,” Magnus says and takes a sip from his own glass as he follows Alecs gaze before he looks at him again. “I take it luxury is not your thing?”

No, not the way people went about it in the other setting. He shudders at the memory of those cold glass facades, the expensive cars and clothes, one trying to outdo the next, and on top of it all the mix of decadence, ostentatious display of riches and depravity inside that club. “No, I don’t really see the point of it. At some point it’s only about envy, showing off and wanting more just for the sake of it.”

Magnus shrugs. He offers him a plate full of buttered slices of baguette, which Alec picks one from. “You’re certainly not wrong, but there’s also nothing wrong with wanting something nice for oneself every once in a while. I’ve only been once, but I quite enjoyed my night at the Nightchildrens’. They certainly know how to-- indulge.” He chuckles.

Alec isn’t sure he actually wants to know what he’d just remembered, but he can see Magnus fitting in there – at least more than with the ‘Children of the Moon’ where he’d actually found him – and having fun, being at the heart of the party.

He isn’t really hungry, but the fresh bread is so delicious he reaches for a second slice. Also, the way the champagne already warms his cheeks it couldn’t hurt to eat something before he makes a fool of himself.

“It’s where I met Camille,” Magnus muses, taking a bite from his own piece of baguette.

Alec huffs a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?” They share a moment of silence, each lost in their own heads and he watches as the sky changes color and the last orange rays hide behind the mountain ridges. “You know, after everything I’ve seen, I definitely like this setting best, the default setting.”

“The Children of the Angel.”

He grimaces. “Yeah. The name’s a bit much, though.”

The sound of Magnus’ laugh travels far on the undisturbed surface of the lake in the twilight.

“Although,” Alec says, “there is one place I think I’d like to visit again some time.” He looks at Magnus, who’s clearly curious.

“Where?”

“That really big library in the Lilith setting.” It’s not so much the books themselves, although they hold a certain fascination as well. If only for the fact that they are real books, with paper and spines, not a digital copy on a pad. He wouldn’t mind wandering the shelves and picking something to read in one of those bean bags, even though he’s never been much of a reader himself. That has always been more Jace’ department. No, the thing that pulls him back there is the _feeling_ of the building itself. “The atmosphere there, it was so-- peaceful.” He doesn’t know how else to describe it.

Magnus sits up straighter and frowns at him while he reaches for the bottle to pour himself another glass. “You mean the library where our Taki’s is? The ‘Spiral Labyrinth’?” Alec nods and watches with confusion – and then amusement – as Magnus’ face twitches. He’s trying, but losing, and in the end he explodes with laughter. “Peaceful? _Peaceful_?” He carefully dabs at his eyes to not ruin his make-up. “You must have picked the only day _without_ an epic argument there.”

“Huh?”

“The residents over there are notorious for their-- lets call it cantankerousness? Seriously, I’ve seen it. They hold debates and argue for days if they feel like it. Anything can set it off, from different world views down to the question if turquoise tends more towards green or blue.”

“Seriously?” Alec stares at him, eyes wide, feeling like a naive greenhorn even though he’s seen so much already. But it’s been so quiet and nice there. “So they have a whole setting that thrives on arguments?”

“Well,” Magnus folds one leg underneath the other, still shaking his head in amusement, “who doesn’t know at least one of those people who have a strong opinion about everything? Ragnor would certainly fit right in there.”

He remembers the name. Magnus has mentioned him before. “Your friend? The one you had a crush on?”

The other nods. “Yeah, he’s a mean old grump who loves to argue.” Although the words might sound harsh, the way he says them is anything but. There’s a fondness to his voice that also brightens his eyes. Whoever this Ragnor is, he means the world to Magnus. “It doesn’t matter what opinion you have, he’ll have a different one, just to annoy you. But he has a heart of gold. Speaking of gold-- Look!”

Invited not just by Magnus, but the sudden, silent awe in his tone he twists around and follows his outstretched hand with his gaze. His mouth drops open slowly. So far he’d faced away from the city, towards where the sun had sunk down behind the mountains, but this--

Without taking his eyes off of the view he turns, arranges his limbs anew on the blanket like a man in a trance. It’s almost dark by now, the sky somewhere between indigo and black, but Alicante _glows_. Warm lights from countless windows joins the yellow shine of street lamps and together they turn the honey-colored stone and red tiles into a shimmering ocean of molten gold and blazing yellow and red fire, reflected back into the darkness all around by the dark surface of the lake. Alec simply stares and blinks against a sudden wetness in his eyes. He’s always wondered about the strange names of the settings, but right now, in this moment, he _knows_ why this one is called ‘Children of the Angel’.

Still in the process of slow movements he skids over a bit further until he’s right behind Magnus, who’s just as captivated by the city as he is. Alec wraps his arms around Magnus waist and leans his head against his. “It looks like heavenly fire,” he whispers.

Magnus shifts, leaning just that tiny bit closer against him. “I’ve never seen the city from afar at night,” he says, his voice quiet and rough with emotion.

Alec tears his eyes away, which turns out easier than he would’ve guessed, and nuzzles closer against the other. His nose bumps against Magnus’ ear and he just has to take in a breath and revel in the warm, wooden, sweet smell that is so very _Magnus_ that he can’t help but smile. It’s that smile that he presses against the soft skin of Magnus’ neck, a kiss just as sweet as that wonderful smell.

“It’s beautiful!” He’s not entirely sure if he’s still talking about the city at this point.

  


***

  


Alec knows that it’s close to midnight. He can feel it, the constant tick-tock of time that only ever slows when you want it to quicken and the other way around. It doesn’t seem fair.

But few things are. And he’s not willing to spare even one thought on things he can’t change. Not here, not now.

There is only this moment, this wonderful, perfect moment in time and he’s determined to cherish every last second of it.

He sits cross-legged on one corner of the blanket wrapped up in Magnus’ jacket against the chill of the night. The sleeves are a bit short on him, which probably looks ridiculous – the whole fancy jacket with it’s complicated white pattern and gold and red stripes down the arms probably looks ridiculous on him – but even if there were hundreds of people around he wouldn’t care, because it’s warm and it smells of Magnus.

Speaking of which-- the owner of the jacket is currently lying down on his back, wrapped up in the remaining parts of the blanket while his head rests comfortably in Alec’s lap.

They’d spent hours talking about everything and nothing, drinking and laughing and feeding each other grapes and strawberries. And licking the juice off of each other’s fingers and lips. Which had led to kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. Then, later on as the chill finally got to them, it had turned to cuddles. And through it all the city of Alicante had shone in the distance, it’s warm light in contrast to the cold white shine of the moon.

Even now faint whispers of music carry across the lake and add to the gentle lapping of the water. Alec’s fingers follow their rhythm as they run gently through Magnus’ hair. They trail his hairline avoiding the hard spikes that run along the crown of his head, then scrape across the shorter parts at his sides, trace the shell of his ears and brush idly over his temple and forehead before it all starts anew.

A while ago a soft humming sound, almost like a purr, had joined in with the others. It still makes him grin.

He looks down at Magnus’ face. His eyes are closed, his features relaxed, a content smile on his face. He looks asleep, but Alec can tell that he isn’t.

“You’re like a cat,” he finally says with amusement.

“Meow!”

Alec chuckles. Magnus could be so refreshingly silly at times – and his cat-impression is surprisingly good.

Magnus fidgets a bit to get even more comfortable, his movements languid and indulgent. Like a cat’s. “I take that as a compliment.”

 _Of course he does_.

In this moment Alec feels absolutely at home. So much that it scares him a bit.

“We had a cat once,” he remembers. “Church. Capricous beast, that one.”

At that Magnus’ eyes shoot open and he looks up at him with a scandalous frown. “ _Church_? Who names a cat ‘Church’?”

“My sister.” Alec grins. His sister had been the only one who was allowed to pet the cat, everyone else had to pay for such a stupid notion with claws in their skin. “She was five at the time.”

“But _Church_?”

“Alright Mr. Animal Rights Activist, what would you name a cat?”

Magnus leans his head back to look right up at Alec. He’s all seriousness as he answers. “Well, Chairman Meow of course!”

For a second Alec simply blinks, unsure if he heard that right, then he explodes with laughter. “Of course,” he snorts while shaking his head. He can practically see an indignant reply forming already, so he leans down and stops him right in his tracks with an upside down kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist to bring Church and Chairman Meow intot his ;D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions are made...  
> Just not the way either of them expected...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't heard from any of you for some chapters now... anyway, in case you're still reading this: this is where the emotional rollercoaster truly starts.  
> For all of you who don't know Black Mirror or San Junipero: this is also where it starts to get really weird, before there'll be some answers in the next chapter. Just bear with me, okay?
> 
> I hope you enjoy it anyways ;)

 

** Alicante – two weeks later **

Rain is falling in thin sheets, dropping against the window with dull thuds. Alec watches the water against the glass, watches the drops run down and painting ever changing patterns. A pattern of transparent water against transparent glass. There shouldn’t be anything to see at all and yet there is. It’s mesmerizing, the sound of it calming. He wraps his arms tighter around his knees and welcomes the warmth of the blanket around his shoulders. Cozy like this he could almost forget.

Almost.

He’d tried a few times already, but any time he’d come close to say something he’d found another reason to put it off a bit longer.

The first time he’d tried last week, but then he’d seen Magnus and that seductive grin and he’d forgotten about it all. They’d headed for Magnus’ place right away and never left the bed once.

He’d tried again today in the car. They’d spent the first half of the evening in Taki’s, taking advantage of a free pool table for a game. A game that had quickly turned into a quite enjoyable competition that had even drawn a crowd of onlookers after a while. Afterwards they’d headed up here and his resolve had evaporated yet again.

It’s stupid, really. It’s nothing. And yet he can’t help but worry.

“Alexander?”

He startles and tears his eyes away from the window. Magnus stands next to him with two steaming cups in his hands, his fond exasperation tells him that he’d called him by name more than once.

“Where have you been?”

“Huh?” Alec asks dumbly as he takes one of the cups in his hands and scoots over to make room for Magnus. “What do you mean?”

Magnus chuckles and those adorable laughter lines show. “You’ve clearly been miles away just now. I had to call you three times.”

Alec blushes a bit, so he ducks his face towards the steaming tea that smells deliciously of exotic fruits and vanilla and blows on it to cool it down a bit. “Not really. I just-- I like the rain.”

Since his tea is still too hot to drink he puts it down on the coffee table. Magnus does the same and sits back against the corner of the couch. Without words, just a few unhurried gestures and a lazy smile, he beckones Alec closer and pulls him in until he’s resting with his back against Magnus’ chest. Alec tugs the blanket around them, just as he feels a set of hands sneak around him to hold him close.

“Then let’s watch the rain,” Magnus says.

And that’s what they do. For a while they just lay there, bathing in each other’s warmth and closeness and watching the window, turned into a canvas for an artist who never stands still. Magnus’ breathing behind him is calm, his fingers painting absentmined patterns across his stomach. If things were different, he’d fall asleep like this, safe and warm, but it’s just a waste of time if you can’t wake up like this as well.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Alec’s heart misses a beat. He’s not prepared for those softly spoken words that come out of nowhere. It’s hard to breathe. Something is squeezing his lungs, his stomach, his heart and it’s warm and scary and suddenly the only thing he can think about is, ‘I think I love you, too.’ Over and over. It’s new and breathless and so very, very fragile.

But what comes out of his mouth when he finally finds his voice again is something else entirely. “I’m getting married next week.”

It’s like a bucket of ice water. This isn’t how he’d planned on telling Magnus – not that his plans had worked out so far with him postponing it further and further, but _this_ is the worst way possible and--

_Dammit Alec, you’re a fucking idiot!_

Tension lies heavy in the air from one moment to the next and Magnus’ body grows rigid as he chokes out, “Next week?” For a moment there’s only the sound of the rain. Magnus is the first to gather his wits back about him, but this time there’s nothing bewildered about his voice. This time he speaks with a saccharine tone, so sweet and wrong it sends shivers down his spine. “To sweet Lydia I presume?”

Alec clears his throat. The word comes out feeble anyway. “Yes.”

He feels suddenly trapped in that tense embrace, gone that cozy safety of languid cuddles, and it’s his own damn fault. Magnus makes no move to stop him, instead he pulls his arms back and extricates himself until they’re sitting next to each other on the couch, separated by the span of a hand.

Magnus had never felt farther away than right now.

“You’re really going through with this.” Magnus doesn’t look at him.

The flat sound of his voice, just a touch of disbelief to it, is so much worse than open anger. Still, those words rub him the wrong way. No, not just the words alone, it’s the disappointment laced through them.

“I have to!” It comes out harsher than expected, but Magnus doesn’t _understand_.

“Whoa, you _have to_?”

Alec nods and then there’s movement and before he really realizes what’s going on Magnus is already sitting right in front of him, perched on the coffee table in just his boxer briefs and a loosely tied, dark blue silk dressing gown. Their knees are bumping against each other. Startled, he looks up and right into a set of intense, dark eyes amidst a worried face. There’s still silver glitter in the corner of Magnus’ eyes.

“Alexander, marriage should never be something that you _have_ to do.” There’s nothing left of the hurt from before, just pure Magnus.

Alec smiles at him, at that eager try to implore to him to rethink this. It’s a sad smile. “But I do, Magnus. I _do_.” He hates the way Magnus is looking at him right now. Hates that harsh line across his lips, hates the twitch of resolve in his clenched jaw, as if he were faced with a great injustice that he needed to fix. He just _doesn’t_ understand, so Alec tries, but there’s chaos inside his mind now and he just doesn’t know how to find the right words to explain. “Lydia, she- she’s really sweet.” It’s the truth. Just as the small smile on his lips is a true one. “I mean, my parents don’t approve, or they wouldn’t if they knew, but they don’t understand. They never have. If they would just-- They can’t stop us!”

There’s so much missing. So much he wants to explain, but the words just won’t come while his thoughts jump wildly from one thing to the next. But Magnus doesn’t interrupt him, not once. It doesn’t matter how long he’s stammering and struggling with the mess in his head, he only sits there, their knees touching, and watches patiently, his head tilted sideways, curious and still worried, but all the more attentive for it.

“I know she pities me,” Alec admits, his eyes downcast. His hands ball into fists on his knees. “And it pisses me off! But- but that’s not fair, because she’s- she’s--” His voice breaks. He can feel the telltale burn of tears in his eyes. It’s pathetic.

And then Magnus’ hands are suddenly cradling his cheeks, his palms soft and warm. “Shhh!” Gentle lips whisper a kiss onto his forehead, barely there, like the touch of a butterfly. “Shhh,” Magnus says again and leans in close until their foreheads are touching. Alec closes his eyes and just soaks it all up, the unexpected tenderness of the moment, the way Magnus’ breaths tingle on his skin and the turmoil within him settles down, enough to keep his composure this time.

When he finally pulls back again and looks at that silver glitter next to unreadable eyes he remembers something Magnus had mentioned on that rooftop. It’s just there, out of the blue. He thinks he knows, but he’s not sure and right now, fragile as he feels in this totally messed up moment, he really, _really_ needs to know. “You said you didn’t know how much time there is. What did you mean by that?”

Magnus takes his hands away from his face and leans back to sit up straighter. He absentmindedly pulls his dressing gown closer about himself. “Three months,” he says rather casual, comfirming Alec’s suspicions.“Although that’s what they said six months ago, so-”

His stomach does a strange and sudden flip at that. He knows that’s probably not the way he’s supposed to feel, but he can’t help the giddy hopefulness that bubbles up within him. “Will you come here? After?”

“No.”

Hard and definite. And with just that one word the giddiness within him crumbles into dust.

Magnus shakes his head, his expression is soft but his voice resolute. “When I’m done, I’m done.”

“But that’s cra-- _Why_?” Alec blurts out. This doesn’t make sense. Alicante is like a dream, a wonderful dream, only it’s real and _there_. Why would anyone opt out of a chance like that? Especially someone who has seen it first hand _and enjoyed its merits to the fullest_? Why?

Magnus gets up and walks over to the window, his arms still crossed across his chest. He gazes out into the rainy night for a while, although Alec isn’t sure if he’s actually seeing anything. Alec’s chest tightens, there’s something hurt and lonely about that picture in front of him that he can’t really grasp.

Then Magnus turns back. “Because of Dorothea. She- She died two years ago. She had the opportunity come here, to Alicante. To pass over. But she chose not to. She had her believes and she stuck to them. Didn’t even go for the trial run. Never visited. Not even once. And I respect that.”

Alec’s head tilts on his own accord, a deep frown on his forehead. “But why would anyone _not_ want to come here?” This really puzzles him. He can’t wrap his head around it. Why not grab this marvelous chance? Why not even try? “I mean, this place is amazing! I-- Without coming here I would’ve never met someone like you.”

The rough sound of a huffed laugh fills the room. It’s like music in his ears and a balm on his nerves. Mabe he hadn’t messed up everything. Magnus rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. “Of course you could have, silly. Well, maybe not someone as fabulous as me, or as dashingly handsome as me, but--” He trails off with a wink and a smirk.

“No.” Alec shakes his head. “Believe me. Outside I’m-- If we’d meet, I mean _really_ meet, you wouldn’t like me. I’m not-”

“Oh come on,” Magnus interrupts him and plants himself firmly back on the coffee table again, right in front of him. He’s frowning, displeased and maybe a tad worried. “Try me.”

Alec scoffs at that. Even if those words weren’t meant as a joke, he just _knows_ that Magnus would never-- “I mean it. You wouldn’t want to spend time with me. The real me. You come and then- and I’m not-”

“Try me!”

The words ring in his ears, tinged with a bit of annoyance, but he just knows that Magnus means them. Really means them. And it scares the hell out of him.

“Why?” he asks instead, his heart thumping hard in his chest. No, he doesn’t want this, _especially_ not with Magnus. “What’s the point? I mean, where are you anyway? LA?”

Magnus doesn’t react to his dismissive tone. Only watches him out of calm eyes. “Brooklyn, New York.”

Alec’s breath hitches. It can’t be! No! He’d only asked that stupid question to emphasize how stupid this is. A sudden touch on his hands has him startled. It’s Magnus. His warm hands wrap around his, his skin a beautiful, rich bronze tone next to his own pale digits. Silver and black rings reflect the dim lights and he wonders if the real Magnus would wear rings as well. He shakes his head, doesn’t want to even think about it, but the gentle squeeze of his fingers has him looking up again. At Magnus, who looks at him intently. “I mean it, Alexander.”

_I know! That’s what makes it so much worse!_

“Where are you?”

He takes a shaky breath. He remembers that first night again, when he spotted this gorgeous man for the first time. He remembers wondering what this man saw in him that he continued to talk with him – be _interested_ in him – even after he’d reached his goal and gotten rid of Heidi. He remembers the way he danced, right in front of him, flirty and sexy and just begging him to touch him. And he remembershis fear as he’d come after him onto the roof, remembers his stuttering. And he remembers how stunningly beautiful he’d looked on the jetty, the golden shine of the city on his face. Like an angel.

“The Institute. In Manhattan.” It’s barely more than a whisper. He knows that he’ll regret this.

It’ll change everything.

Magnus’ eyes widen and his lips part. It’s distracting. “But that’s-”

“I don’t want you to.” There! He’s said it. It’s all he can think about and yet saying it out loud it feels wrong. Of course he wants Magnus. He wants _everything_ of Magnus, but this-- “I don’t want you to see me. Not like this. Not-”

“Alexander!”

The velvety sound tugs at his heart. No one has ever said his name like that, with such honest tenderness, as if he were something special, something to be treasured. He swallows against a lump in his throat and meets Magnus’ gaze again. To his surprise he finds those dark eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. The grip around his hands tightens.

“I’m dying, Alec. Whatever you are can’t scare me!” Magnus smiles at him. It’s a sad smile, but he means every word he’s just said. “Let me come visit. I would love to say ‘hi’ to you in person.”

Alec bites his lip and he nods, a tentative smile on his face. And Magnus smiles back, a real smile without the underlying sadness. The fluttering in his stomach is back. Maybe it would be different with Magnus. Maybe--

He doesn’t know what it is that draws his gaze but he’s looking over at the clock on the opposite wall and gasps. His fingers tighten around Magnus’ hands this time as if he could somehow hold on to this if he only clutches tightly enough. They only have seconds left until midnight.

He hadn’t had time to undo his horrible mistake from earlier, but he needs to. He can’t let Magnus go without knowing.

“Magnus, I think I lo--”

The seconds hand hits twelve and everything just stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't nice of me, I know. Poor Alec, just wanted Magnus to know that he loves him, too, and then this mean author gets in the way of things...  
> I probably should feel sorry now... ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus visits Alec, unsure what he'll find but determined not to let it bother him, because it's Alec.   
> He fails, though, even if not in the way he - or Alec - would have thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, the plot picks up pace now. So buckle up and be prepared for a rough ride.  
> Rough... but still painfully beautiful.

 

** New York – a few days later **

“You’re actually doing this?”

Magnus stops in his tracks and closes his eyes for a second. He’s really not in the mood for this. Still, against better judgement he turns and follows that deep voice until his eyes find its owner quite unsurprisingly by the window, lounging in his favorite armchair with a book in his lap. His rheumy hands with their knobbly joints lay flat on the open pages and his thick white hair looks almost grey in the dull, hazy light from outside. Today’s choice of clothes – a three piece tweed suit in ugly greenish-brown with a mustard yellow shirt underneath – are a special kind of atrocity to Magnus’ fashion sense, but for whatever reason Ragnor loves his tweed. Or he simply chooses it because he knows that it makes his eyes bleed. With Ragnor you could never be sure.

And all of a sudden he remembers another conversation, just a few months back, that had started just like this one.

“ _You’re actually doing this?”_

_Magnus meets Ragnor’s contempt without batting an eye, too used to his friend’s harsh exterior. “Yeah, I am. You’ve got a problem with that?”_

_Ragnor scoffs and leans back into his armchair, seemingly unimpressed. “With you handing over your consciousness, everything you are, into the hands of some money-grubbing company? Whyever should I have a problem with that?” he says airily, with nothing but a carelessly raised eyebrow. But Magnus knows him long enough to see behind that facade. He spots the tension in Ragnor’s jawline, detects the way he avoids direct eyecontact, but most of all: he’s tugging at seam of his sleeve. He is nervous. And worried. For Magnus’ sake._

“ _You know, actually, the services of Idris Systems are for free.”_

_Ragnor looks up at him and shudders. “That’s even worse!”_

_It’s such a typical Ragnor-reaction, he just has to laugh. “You’re like one of those people afraid of their soul being stolen when men invented photography.” Still chuckling he reaches for his cup of tea and takes a sip. By now he would’ve expected a sour reply, something like ‘how can you be so sure they won’t steal your soul?’ or something miffed like ‘sorry, if you don’t care about your soul but I’m quite fond of mine, thank you very much’, but there’s only silence. He looks up and finds himself faced with an unusual open seriousness that has him swallowing against a sudden lump in his throat._

“ _Why? Why do this? You know you won’t find her there and you know you won’t stay, so why? It’s not even real!”_

_Magnus shrugs and ignores the tightness in his throat, covers it up with a nonchalant tone and an easy smile. “Maybe I just want to dance again?”_

_But Ragnor is having none of it, for he knows him and his tells just as well. “I mean it, Magnus.”_

_He sighs, drops the pretense and looks his friend in the eye, just as serious now. “Me too. I’m going to die, Ragnor. My body hurts and my heart can barely stomach the trip over to Cat’s living room for tea. Is it so wrong of me to want to dance? To have some fun before it all ends?”_

Just like back then there’s only one answer to a question like that.

“You got a problem with that?” he asks back, although it’s less of a question and more of a challenge. A challenge he neither has the mental capacity nor the time for. Not right now.

But Ragnor raises one of his thick, white eyebrows at him and his British accent gets even more pronounced with his glee. “Are you kidding? That boy finally gets you out of the house again! Do you know how long it’s been since I last had the place to myself?”

Against his will his lips pull up into a fond smile and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it! See you later.”

Magnus turns and heads for the door. Walking is easier today, his back and joints aren’t hurting as much since the rain of the last few days has finally made room for some warmth, if not sunshine, again. He gives himself one final check in the mirror by the door – old habits die hard. He looks good. More than good. His black pants fit nicely and the dark red shirt compliments his skin tone. The black coat that reaches down to his knees radiates just the right amount of respectable flair, at least when watched from the front side. Its back is full of blunt, silvery studs. A silk scarf in a red so dark it almost looks black, a set of silver necklace and bracelet and a few rings finish his outfit. It suits him, still. For a moment he’d even thought about putting on kohl for the occasion, for old time’s sake – and maybe because he feels a bit naked without in front of Alec – but his hands aren’t as steady as they’d once been and he’d opted against it.

It’s been a while since he looked into a mirror like this and actually _looked_ at his reflection, actually _cared_ for what he saw there. He could still see the beautiful young man he’d once been hidden somewhere underneath the sagging skin full of liver marks, the deep wrinkles and the grey hair, shorter now than in his youth, simply for practicability. He misses him some days, his younger self.

Outside in the corridor Catarina is already waiting for him. Her eyes sparkle with an amused grin as she lays eyes on him.

“Hey, someone’s eager to impress, huh?”

“Well, it’s not an every day occasion, isn’t it?”

Catarina is a God-sent gift, her warmth and good heart, but even more so her cheeky – sometimes bordering on mean – sense of humor and the fact that she takes no nonsense. She’s challenging him and Ragnor when they let themselves go, but she also listens to them when they need it and never pushes when they can’t take it. They couldn’t have wished for a better nurse.

“Come on then, you don’t want to be late to your date.”

He follows her with slow, measured steps into the elevator and, once downstairs, out into a waiting car.

It’s not an overly hectic day so they make good progress on the road. Magnus watches the houses drift past outside the window. A lot has changed in the last decades, although the city is still just as busy as it had always been. The drive won’t take all that long, maybe fourty minutes total from ‘Cathedral Houses – Assistant Living’ over to ‘The Institute’ in Manhattan. He’d looked it up. It’s a care facility for people with special care needs that go beyond the capabilities of your usual nursing home.

To his surprise he finds that he’s nervous. He can’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about anything, not like this. But Alec’s bitterness, the surety in his voice at claiming that Magnus wouldn’t like him out here, still gives him goosebumps and he can’t help but wonder what he might find upon his arrival.

Once there Catarina hooks her arm under his and helps him walk up the footpath from the gates to the entrance of the old looking building. He needs a short break before they enter, winded already.

“You okay?”

He nods as his heartbeat slows down somewhat. It’s still not ideal, but given his anxiousness it might not get better than this. They step inside and like with so many other old buildings it’s just the same here, the facade is only kept for nostalgic reasons, the inside on the other hand is up to date modern architecture, clean cut, white and well lit. Staff and visitors mingle about, a few residents sit together in a recreational area in the back. Magnus hates it. It’s too cold and clinical, nothing like the comfy warmth of his own home with fluffy rugs and blankets on old couches and armchairs and bookcases across the walls.

“You must be Magnus Bane!” A broad, dark-skinned man with a short beard and kind eyes heads towards them. Magnus recognizes his voice. It’s the doctor he’d spoken to as he’d first called a few days ago to inquire about Alexander and expressed his wish to visit him.

“And you must be Dr. Graymark. Nice to meet you.” They shake hands. The man’s got a strong grip. He likes that about people. “And this is Catarina Loss,” he introduces his friend and nurse. They shake hands as well, then Dr. Graymark gestures towards a hallway down the back of the building.

“Alec is already waiting for you!”

The way through the building is long and even with the pause of an elevator ride his heart is beating heavily in his chest by the time they arrive in front of a door. Maybe it’s not just his weak heart screaming its abuse at him, maybe it’s also his nerves showing. He’s not sure. Catarina holds him a little bit tighter and he’s grateful for her support, in every sense of the word.

“Mr. Bane,” Dr. Graymark says, clearly uncomfortable, with one hand against an inconspicuous door, “since your visit happens on such short notice all our com-boxes are currently in use already. You have to make do without, I’m afraid. I’m really sorry about that.”

_Com-box?_

But Magnus has no time to process the information or its meaning since the doctor opens the door right at that moment and leads them inside. The room is big and full of natural light that floods in through big windows – not that there is much light on this cloudy day. That’s when he spots him. He can’t hold back that quiet gasp. Part of him has suspected something like this, but seeing it with his own eyes, seeing it and remembering the man from Alicante, that is something totally different.

Alexander is lying in a white hospital bed, unmoving, a blanket up to his waist. A breathing tube is connected to the front of his neck, blocking his view of his face.

“He won’t be able to react to you in any way, just so you know,” Dr. Graymark says in a clinically detached way, although not unfriendly. “But he _will_ hear you.”

Magnus doesn’t pay the man any mind as he takes his leave, instead he takes one determined step after the other until he’s at Alec’s side. It _is_ Alexander, no doubt about that. The same face, only this one is lax and so without life, it breaks his heart. Just his eyes, the same deep, hazel eyes, widen slightly in recognition.

And he’s _so young_ , Magnus hasn’t expected that at all. He couldn’t be older than fifty-five.

“So, all this time you’ve been hiding right under my nose,” he says as a way of greeting, his mirth clearly audible in his voice. He reaches out and takes Alec’s hand in his, it’s dry and warm underneath his fingers. Not a single twitch gives any sign of life or consciousness. And he thinks he understands now why Alec hadn’t wanted him here. Why he’d think he wouldn’t want to spend time with him like _this_. And he’s been right, it’s not easy, but not because he doesn’t like him like this, but because his heart goes out to that wonderful man trapped inside this shell of a body.

He leans down towards Alec’s face and presses a soft kiss to his unresponsive lips. “Hello Alexander!”

There’s a slight reaction from the gentle beeping of a heart monitor in the background. Magnus grins at that, his lips still lingering on Alec’s as he whispers: “I missed you, too.”

  


***

  


His back hurts as he eventually gets up from the chair at Alec’s bedside. Hours have run by like minutes, even without a com-box. Sure, Alec hadn’t been able to talk or hold his hand or scowl at him when he’d said something stupid, but Magnus had faced harder challenges. He’d simply filled Alec’s silences with stories of his own. He’d told him all kinds of things, from Ragnor’s annoying him earlier to Catarina, who’d left them alone with the promise to check back on him every half hour, to old stories, some inconsequential bits of his life, some from experiences in Alicante, one more outrageous than the other.

It’s fascinating how much a heartbeat alone can tell you about a person.

His favorite part, though, had been the moment it had sped up as he’d whispered part of a story conspiratorially into his ear, his lips barely brushing his skin. Of course he’d used that knowledge to tease him a bit.

But now Catarina is back with his pills and the reminder that they shouldn’t leave Ragnor to his own devices for too long. Magnus hates to leave and yet he’s glad that next time they’ll meet Alec will be free to be himself again. He gently kisses him goodbye, cradling his cheek in his wrinkled hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

As he leaves the room with Catarina by his side he feels both lighter and heavier than before. Lighter for an ordinary afternoon spent with his Alexander in the hope that he’d brightened his day just as much as the other way around. And heavier, for the knowledge that the man that had awakened his heart in a way he’d never thought possible anymore is trapped inside his own body for who knows how long weighs like a burden on his shoulders. It makes his heart weep, but if life had tought him anything, then that it’s not fair and some things just can’t be changed.

“Oh, hello, um, excuse me?”

A bit puzzled to be adressed in a place they both know no one, Magnus and Catarina stop and turn around to come face to face with a young blonde woman in her early twenties, clad in the mint green colors of the nursing staff.

“Excuse me, are you-” She frowns a bit as she scrutinizes him with curious eyes. “Are you Magnus?”

“Yes, I am. Who-”

“I’m Lydia.”

Magnus’ mouth drops open. He’d totally forgotten about the marriage thing again and yet, whenever he’d pictured the woman that Alec might find the need to marry for whatever reason he’d never expected it to be someone this young. Well, to be honest, before today he’d never given the outside life of Alec as much thought as he probably should have. “Holy shit!”

Catarina huffs at his side and Lydia grins at his flustered expression. “Yeah, I know,” she says with a shrug, then gets serious again. “I just wanted to say, I’m glad you could make it here before he passes over. He barely gets any visitors anymore, apart from his sister that is.”

The words hit him like a brick to the face. “He’s passing over?” His voice sounds thin and shaky, even to his own ears.

“Um, yeah,” Lydia replies, confusion and concern waring on her face. “He didn’t tell you?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No. When?”

“Tomorrow. After the ceremony.”

“ _Tomorrow_?”

Lydia holds up her hands in a placating gesture at his shocked whisper. “Why- why don’t we talk over a cup of coffee in the cafeteria?”

Magnus feels himself nodding numbly. A lot of things suddenly click into place and yet the only thing he can think about is that Alec is passing over tomorrow and he never said a thing. Never.

Why does this feel as if someone is pulling the rug out from under his feet?

  


***

  


“He didn’t tell you?” Lydia asks while leading him slowly through the cafeteria to a free table that’s a bit apart from the other occupied tables.

Magnus shakes his head. “No. He said he’s just visiting.” Which isn’t exactly true now that he thinks about it. Alec had hemmed and hawed and not corrected him as he’d drawn his own conclusions.

“More like sampling the trial version, actually. I’ll get us a coffee. Milk or sugar?”

“Neither, thank you. But- if they’ve got any tea make it a tea instead of coffee?”

The blonde woman smiles back. “Sure. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Magnus looks after her, watches her tight ponytail bounce with every purposeful step. His mind, though, is miles away. Catarina went back to the entrance area to ‘call up on Ragnor and make sure the old grump doesn’t forget about the importance of staying hydrated again’. Magnus knows it’s true, but she’s also leaving to give him some space to figure this out, knowing that he’s in good hands with one of the local nurses.

Lydia is back soon enough and puts a bland looking paper cup in front of him. A lump is forming in his throat as memories explode inside his mind. _I think I’m falling in love with you_. It’s the same mix of maracuya and vanilla he’d prepared for them in Alicante that last night they’d shared. The night he’d opened up and admitted something he’d never thought he’d say again in this life, for he knows it’ll only bring pain. _I’m getting married next week_. It had come out of the blue. Maybe that’s why it had hurt so much, but that’s what you get when you open your heart.

This should never have happened. None of this. And yet he is here now and it seems that around every corner there’s even more pain waiting for him, but, strangely enough, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe he’s even embracing the pain. He’s certainly never felt this alive in a long time.

Wrapping his hands reluctantly around the hot paper cup he can’t help think that they’d never gotten around to drinking their tea in Alicante. The two cups had stood there, forgotten as emotions had run high all of a sudden.

Lydia clears her throat, which snaps him out of his thoughts. She’s polite enough not to mention it in any way.

Magnus tries for an apologetic smile and asks instead, “How long do you have known him?”

“I think ever since I’ve started working here, which is a bit over three years now. The first time we met he made me laugh so hard I dropped the clean towels I was carrying.” He could see right away that she cares about Alec. It’s in the fondness of her eyes and the way she talks about him. “We talked a lot after that. At least whenever the com-box was free. The Institute just doesn’t have enough for all the clients who need them. He talked a lot about you these last weeks, you know.”

Warmth blooms in his chest upon hearing that.

“Anyway, has he ever told you how he ended up like this? Quadriplegic and locked-in?” Lydia, kind and friendly as she is, isn’t one for beating around the bush.

He likes that.

“No.”

Lydia sighs. “Alright. It happened the night he came out to his parents. He was twenty-one back then and his parents weren’t taking it very well, throwing stuff at him like ‘it’s just a phase’ and ‘have you ever even _tried_ dating a girl?’, they even told him to his face that they didn’t want a gay son. Well, they fought, it escalated, his father slapped him and pushed him against a wall. He fled, took the car and veered off the road.”

“When he was twenty-one?” Magnus barely hears anything after that, he registers it on some level and it’s all horrible, but his mind just couldn’t work past that one piece of information that struck him the most.

“Yeah, thirty-five years.” The blonde cringes. She clearly doesn’t like this part of the story as well. “So when Idris Systems released the Alicante program it’s been a big deal for Alec. The biggest deal. For now he’s on a five hours weekly limit until he passes over and goes permanent. I guess you’ve got the same standard limit?”

“Mh,” he hums, his mind still trying to process that his sweet and passionate Alexander had been trapped inside his own body for _thirty-five_ years. That’s horrible. It takes effort to tear his mind away from it and focus on the current conversation with a dry snort. “They ration it out. Think we can’t handle more than that.”

Lydia sips at her coffee, her eyes wide with an innocence that only youth can hold. “They say you go crazy if you get too much.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh. “Why? Afraid people might not see the point in leaving their bed? Or that they disassociate? As if that’s not already happening in every senior home already.” But that’s not what he’s here to discuss. “So, about this marriage--”

He watches Lydia straighten her shoulders as if bracing herself for something while he takes a sip of his tea. The aroma hits him again and with the images of an old, motionless Alexander in a hospital bed as well as those of a young and frantic Alexander, sitting in shorts and a t-shirt on a couch, struggling to put his thoughts into words the sweet taste turns bitter in his mouth.

“The state has got a triple lockdown on euthanasia cases in place. They want to stop people from simply passing over because they prefer Alicante over this world. That’s why a doctor, the patient or client himself and a family member need to sign. But Alec’s parents are a tough case. They refuse to sign.” Lydia averts her eyes, her shoulders stiff. Her fingers fumble with the paper cup in her hands. “I don’t know if they’re still waiting for a miraculous cure or if it’s religious reasons or if they’re still trying to punish him for being gay. I don’t know, maybe it’s some warped sense of guilt and they’re unwilling or unable to bear the burden of being responsible for his death as well as his current condition. Whatever it is, they certainly haven’t shown a lot of interest in him otherwise. They haven’t been here to see him in almost two years now.”

Her anger and disbelief and frustration with it all is hard to miss. He knows where her emotions are coming from, they’re twisting his own stomach right now, but he can’t help wondering. What would he have done if Raphael--

No, he wouldn’t go there.

Couldn’t go there.

“What about his siblings? You said ‘family member’. Couldn’t they sign for him as well?”

Lydia sighs. There is a quiet growl to it and her jaw is set. So Magnus braces himself for even more unpleasant information. “Usually that would be enough, yes. His siblings would’ve signed for him right away the moment he’d asked. They love him and respect him. They want him to be happy and they know that he isn’t. Not like this. Their parents got wind of them planning to sign and went to court to overrule their decision. Hired this stop-at-nothing prick of a lawyer, Aldertree or something, who actually managed to convince the judge that _their_ decision is in the best interest of their son.”

_They took away his right to choose???_

_Focus, Magnus!_

“But a spouse can override that. Therefore the wedding.” It all makes sense now.

“Yeah. The pastor is coming by tomorrow at noon and afterwards, at 2pm, he’s scheduled to pass.”

Magnus snorts. “Scheduled to pass! Let’s just call it what it is, though: dying!”

“But is it?” Lydia asks and leans back with a shrug. She looks at him like barely any really young people look at him anymore, as if she’s truly interested in his opinion.

“Uploaded to the cloud,” he muses, not without a certain degree of sarcasm. “If that doesn’t sound like heaven--”

She frowns and tilts her head, her blue eyes far too perceptive to be comfortable. “So you’re not going to-”

“Are you gonna wear a dress?” he asks quickly, not at all willing to let her go there. And it works, the sudden change of topic – especially this topic – has Lydia blush a little. She avoids meeting his eyes, but it’s not bashful, if anything she seems embarrassed.

“The ceremony is during my lunch break,” she explains. It’s just what Magnus had expected, but it had been the first thing that had come to his mind to change the topic quickly. “I’m not married so I thought, what’s the harm.”

Magnus looks at her. _Really_ looks at her. With her square jaw and her hair pulled back like this she comes across as stern and who knows, maybe she is at times, but underneath that tough exterior lies a good heart. And if his eighty-seven years have taught him anything then that true kindness is a trait that’s found far too rarely in this world.

“You’re a good person!”

“It’s the least I could do.”

It’s the choice of words that adds the final touch to an idea that’s been floating about his in bits and pieces for a while now. He can’t say when it had started or when the vague flickers of thought had taken real shape. But now it’s right there in his mind and his old and frail heart beats faster in his chest. He really _does_ feel alive again.

“I see,” he starts and turns on his charme – hoping that that rusty old thing would still work. He looks down at his hands then gazes up at her with the best innocent smile he has. “Think you could hook us up to the system _now_? Just for a little while. You know, before he passes?”

“You can see him afterwards. He’ll be a full time Alicante resident by then.”

“I know.” This time he ups his game with – hopefully – just the right amount of mischief in his innocent smile. “But can you?”

Lydia squirms on her chair now, which is a good sign. “Seriously, I-- things are pretty tight here. They monitor every-”

Magnus knows that he has her already, her face tells him that she _wants_ to help him. She just needs a tiny nudge. “I just want a moment.” He puts his thumb and index finger closer together, indicating a small amount. “Just a tiny moment.”

  


***

  


“Lean back.”

Magnus does. The armchair is soft against his aching back and surprisingly comfy, but then, this is a care facility and not a hospital. Catarina is standing right above him, eying him with a slightly raised eyebrow. She’d come back looking for him after a while and had caught them back in Alec’s room with the telltale handle-like device in Lydia’s hands. But she hadn’t said anything so far – and Magnus knows that she wouldn’t, not until they’re on their way back. Instead she’d closed the door behind her and helped.

He holds her gaze, her exasperation with him a welcome distraction from his fluttering nerves.

Smooth plastic touches his temple, the barest of touches, as Catarina sticks the small, round device onto his skin. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see that Lydia is doing the same to Alec. Alec, who still hasn’t moved an inch. His face – beautiful even with wrinkles and sagging skin – lax, like a mask that’s just waiting to be put on and filled with life.

“Five minutes! That’s all I can give you!” Lydia reminds him.

_That’s all I need._

_Thank you._

For some reason his voice betrays him. Catarina puts her hand on his, her touch warm and reassuring. He nods at Lydia and the blond presses a button on the grey device in her hand.

His eyes fall shut.

  


  


  


** Alicante – a moment later **

The door to the balcony is open.

Without further thought Magnus hurries across the living room. It’s just a few days since they’d been here, huddled together underneath a blanket, enveloped in warmth and the gentle aroma of vanilla. Just a few days since he’d been sitting on that coffee table, his heart hurting from that unexpected blow and yet seeing Alec in such turmoil had hurt even more.

Just a few days.

It feels like a lifetime.

He almost stumbles over the rug, but catches himself with his hands against the doorframe. Even months later the speed with which his body is able to move in here – just like in old times – baffles him. He steps outside, his eyes searching with that frantic need pulsing underneath his skin. What if he’s not here but at his own place down in the city?

And then he spots him.

Alec.

His heart stops for a second. “Alec!”

The other turns around, the wonder never leaving his face, though. His eyes are wide and his mouth open. “I’ve never been here in bright daylight! It’s-- it’s beautiful Magnus! And warm, so _warm_! Can you feel it?” He tilts his head back and holds his face up towards the sun, just like he’d done at the lake. That same content smile on his face as back then. This time Magnus understands where it comes from. It’s been decades since Alec has seen the sun, since he’d felt it warm his skin. It’s sad and beautiful and he wants to hug him close and kiss him, again and again.

But he’s on the clock here.

“Listen, I don’t have much time.” That gets Alec’s undivided attention, but it also puts that beginning of a frown on his face and he wants nothing more than to wipe it away again. “I spoke to Lydia. You’re-” Not trusting his hoarse voice to hold he clears his throat. “You’re passing over tomorrow?”

Alec winces. “Yeah. A few hours after the wedding. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I-”

Magnus reaches out and lets his index finger hover a mere inch in front of Alec’s lips to shush him. He isn’t here for an apology, although he appreciates it. Still, time is running short.

“Stop, just-- this might be crazy, but--” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead he cuts right to the point before his nerves could get the better of him.

He drops down on one knee, right there on the balcony. The tiles are almost hot beneath his knee and looking up at Alec he has to blink against the blinding light of the sun, at least until Alec moves a tiny bit to his right and his shadow falls across him.

“Do you want to marry me instead?”

His heart works overtime in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage in a way that would have him scared for his life were he outside in the real world. Alec looks down at him, his hazel eyes wide with shock. The seconds tick by and Magnus presses his hands against his legs to hide their shaking. Alec stares.

_I think I’m in love with you. - I’m going to marry next week._

Maybe this had been a bad idea.

He licks his lips, nervous. Uncertain. “Lydia is a gem, but-- I thought, why not marry someone you’ve actually got a connection w--”

The moment he sees the shock dissolve into disbelief and then pure joy he’s already got a handful of Alec wrapped around him. And an eager pair of soft lips against his, kissing him, again and again, just the way he’d pictured kissing Alec only moments before. His knee starts hurting from the hard tiles, but it’s the last thing on his mind right now. Instead he wraps his own arms around Alec and holds him close as he answers his enthusiastic kisses in kind.

Laughter spills from his lips as even after a while Alec doesn’t relent. “Is-- is that a-- a yes?” he manages to get out in between kisses.

Alec pulls back. Magnus’ fingers tighten their grip on his shirt on instinct, unwilling to let him go. “What do you think, you gorgeous idiot?”

This time it’s Magnus who attacks Alec’s lips with fervor. And if the kiss tastes a little bit wet and salty, then it’s all the more perfect for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me?
> 
> And can I just say it? I LOVE Ragnor. I truly adore him and his relationship with Magnus and I hate that we couldn't see more of it on the show. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know your thoughts :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In sickness and in health...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe prepare a tissue or two. Just in case.

 

** New York – one day later **

“- to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health-”

The melodic voice of the surprisingly young priest flows through the air of the room like a gentle breeze, mild and pleasant. It’s one of those voices that carries you away, that takes you someplace else just with the soft rolling of their inflection, places like a sunlit meadow full of flowers or a shadowy clearing with the air smelling of pine and moss.

Or the pebble beach of a big lake, shining golden in the light of the sunset.

Magnus doesn’t know where Lydia had found this man, who had introduced himself as Brother Zachariah, but he is grateful for him. For his kindness and understanding and treating this ceremony with the same seriousness and passion as any other.

He smiles over at Alec. His sweet, innocent, brave Alexander, his face just as expressionless as the day before, but with a certain light to his tired, hazel eyes. The soft wooshing sound of the ventilator is the only noise in the room apart from Brother Zachariah’s voice. Magnus curls his fingers, pushes them gently in between Alec’s until their hands are entwined, their skin old and wrinkled and dry. It’s nothing like the strong grip he is used to and he misses it, misses the way Alec grips back, and yet, in a strange way it’s the same. It’s still Alec, still Alec’s hand. And he gets to hold it, there and here as well.

He’s really doing this!

He’s getting married! To Alexander!

On a certain level he knows he shouldn’t get involved like this, that it will only break his heart, shatter whatever’s left of it to pieces, and yet…

A quiet sob tears him out of his musings and he looks up at the few people who are here to witness their wedding. There’s Catarina, who looks at him with love and pride and hope. And there’s Ragnor, who had regarded him with an eyeroll and a grumbled ‘I let you out of my sight for _one_ afternoon and you _propose_ to the first guy you meet?’, had insisted on coming with them and being there to witness him ‘making a fool of himself’, although right now his old friend is smiling at him, a smile born of wonder and sadness, for he knows.

Lydia is here as well, of course, visibly happy for Alec.

And then there’re also Isabelle and Simon, Alec’s sister and her husband. It’s Isabelle who’s sobbing. Tears are running down her cheeks, her dark eyes trained on her brother. Simon takes a step closer and puts his arm around her, pulling her against his side. She follows easily and leans her head against his chest, taking comfort in his embrace.

Magnus had ‘met’ them the evening before at a video call. Lydia had told him that Alec’s sister would be there for the wedding and the passing over and Magnus just _had_ to inform her of the change of plans. He’d been a bit wary at first, not knowing how she’d react that a complete stranger would marry her brother instead of the kind nurse, but he’d worried over nothing. _‘You’re Magnus?_ The _Magnus? Oh my God, I can’t believe this! For weeks Alec’s been talking about you and only you. Oh my-- Simon! Simon, come here, you have to see this!’_

Alec’s brothers had wanted to come as well, but a severe dust storm over Mumbai made it impossible for Max to leave on time and a workplace accident four days ago had left Jace tied to a hospital bed and since it hadn’t been certain at first if he’d be able to keep his leg his wife Clary hadn’t wanted to leave his side. Something Magnus could very much understand. Isabelle had assured him though, that both brothers had been visiting recently and that there is nothing left unsaid between them. He still thinks that it’s sad that two of the three most important people in Alec’s life, who’d always been on his side, couldn’t be here for his final hours.

But Isabelle is here. She’s the only one still living in New York and visits Alec every Sunday, where she obviously listened to all his ramblings about ‘the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, Izz’.

Brother Zachariah’s voice stops and Magnus looks up. It’s his part now. “I do,” he says, without hesitation, squeezing that warm, lax hand in his a tiny bit tighter.

A while later it’s Alec’s turn. “I do!”

Magnus shudders at the tinny voice that comes out of the com-box. It’s Alec talking and yet it couldn’t be further from the soft, deep tone of his voice that could cut like glass if he wants it to, but that could also caress like the barest touch of silk on skin.

Brother Zachariah smiles. “It’s my honor to pronounce you-- one.”

  


***

  


It’s just his fingerprint now that’s still missing. Alec had proclaimed his wish to pass over with his wrong com-box voice in front of the civil law notary – a fierce and severe looking woman named Herondale – and Dr. Graymark had already signed.

It’s up to him now.

Isabelle’s eyes are resting on him while her hands are cradling one of Alec’s.

Magnus reaches out and presses his fingertip onto the pad in Mrs. Herondale’s hands, signing the papers with his fingerprint. The notary nods and discretely steps back to witness the proceedings from the background, just as Lydia and Simon do. It’s just him and Isabelle at Alec’s side.

Dr. Graymark prepares everything for the upload of Alec’s consciousness with few routine motions then nods at them to signal that he’s ready. Magnus nods back. And watches as the doctor injects something into the tube that runs into Alec’s veins.

Isabelle holds tightly on to her brother’s hand, raising it up to her lips to kiss it gently. “Be happy,” she says against his skin. To Magnus’ surprise she’s not crying this time. She’s smiling.

The quiet beeping that signals Alec’s heartbeats is getting slower and Dr. Graymark shuts off the ventilator.

Magnus reaches out his other hand to gently rest it on Alec’s hair. It’s thin beneath his fingers, but just as soft as he remembers. He leans down and presses a last chaste kiss onto those pale, unmoving lips. Strangely enough he finds it hard to smile at this moment, though he puts a smile on his face anyway. For Alec. He thinks he sees relief in those hazel eyes as they look up, fixed on him, and he pulls up his other hand, caresses his cheek for a moment. Then he closes Alec’s eyelids with a gentle brush of his fingers and kisses his temple.

“Sleep now! I’ll see you soon!”

There’s a single tear that drops out of the corner of Alec’s eye and as it rolls down across his skin and vanishes into his hair the beeping in the background stops.

  


  


  


** Alicante – right now **

There’s blinding light. Alec blinks his eyes open anyway, although it takes a while until they adjust to the brightness and he can see past the blurry haze of reflexive tears. He’s at the lake, which is a bit of a surprise at first. He would’ve expected to be at his apartment or at Magnus’ place, but then it’s not all that much of a surprise, really, if he truly thinks about it. Something about the melodious voice of the priest had made him think of their night at the lake and then Magnus’ gentle kisses and caresses, just as quiet and unhurried as that very night, had filled him with peace.

He should’ve expected to land here. At the pebble beach of the lake.

He wipes away the tears and takes a deep breath as his eyes roam the scenery around him. It’s all the same: the pebbles beneath his feet, the lapping sound of the water against the shore, the high mountains that surround the valley, the city of Alicante climbing along the slope of the mountain, even the vague outline of Pandemonium in the very distance at the lakeshore. It’s the same and yet it’s so very, very not. It’s different. Everything is.

The air tastes of heated stones and pines and algae and it’s real. _It’s real_. He’s here. He’s really here. Not just visiting. Not just getting a slice of peace and happiness before he has to go back to his prison. He’s really here this time. All of this, it’s his to take.

He’s free!

For the first time in forever _he’s free_!

A smile tugs at his lips, tentative at first and a bit shaky, overwhelmed, but liberating. He closes his eyes and stretches his arms out at his sides, his face turned up towards the glaring sun and simply smiles. Smiles at the feeling of warmth on his skin and an idea strikes him. Born from the need to feel it all.

He bends down and takes off his sneakers. His socks follow suit before they get pushed inside his shoes that dangle from his loose grip as he gets up again. The uneven pebbles press against his soft flesh, some pointed and sharp, but it only registers as mild pressure in his brain. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough for the reality of it all. For a second, he closes his eyes again and concentrates, creates the image of a slider in his mind and pushes it from zero to one. And from one second to the next the pointy pebbles dig uncomfortably into his skin, tiny pinpricks of pain. A gasp escapes his lungs. It turns into a breathless laugh.

Grinning like a lunatic he takes a step towards the old wodden jetty that’s not far away. One step follows the other. It’s uncomfortable, some stones are surprisingly pointy, others simply dig into sensible areas and sometimes they give under his weight and he slips a bit. He revels in every second of it, every joyful and painful second. Because it’s real! Well, maybe not _real_ real, but it’s his reality now. And nothing will take it away from him again. For the first time in decades he feels _whole_ again.

By the time he reaches the jetty, his feet ache from all the sharp little stones and his revelling strides had turned into careful, wide steps accompanied by little hisses and waving arms to keep his balance. The second he steps foot onto the rough, dry wood of the jetty he breaths out in relief, only to dissolve into helpless laughter right afterwards.

Something rustles in the reed a bit down the shore. Alec narrows his eyes and shades them from the sun. That’s when he spots a gray heron, standing at the edge of the reed in the shallow water and he could swear the bird is casting him an angry glare for disturbing his hunt with his noise.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he apologizes in all seriousness, which only has him snorting with silly laughter again afterwards.

When he reaches the end of the jetty where Magnus had spread a blanket and fed him grapes the urge to laugh out loud slowly dies down into a fond smile. He sits down, his legs dangling over the edge. The water is cold against his skin and quickly seeps into his jeans, but he really doesn’t care. Alicante lies to his left, an ocean of yellow stone and red tiles underneath the sparkling peaks of the snow-capped mountains. Up ahead and to his right the valley stretches out along the lake, the water glittering like diamonds in the sun. Dark clouds are gathering there, the mountain range the only barrier in their way.

Excitement races through his veins. He can’t wait for that storm to come. He remembers the feeling of rain on his skin the first night he’d been here, it’s coldness and the way it had tickled. He wants more of that. He wants it all, feel and experience everything there is. It’s like a hunger within, born from decades of starvation.

_And you will! You have all the time in the world now!_

Content in a way he hasn’t been in a very, very long time he dangles his feet, the water splashing a bit and as he takes a deep breath he imagines a body settling in behind him, wrapping its arms around him, a chin on his shoulder.

The small band of gold on his ring finger is sparkling just as bright as Alec’s happy smile.

  


  


  


** New York – the same day **

Alec’s face stays with Magnus on the whole way back home. His dark grey hair, his lax and unmoving features, his pale lips, but most of all the relief in his hazel eyes. He can still feel the wetness of Alec’s tear on his fingertips from when he’d brushed it away after he’d passed.

Alec’s torment had finally come to an end. He’d gotten the freedom and peace he’d so desperately longed for. His sister had been sad, yes, but mostly she’d been happy for her brother.

Magnus wants to be happy for Alec as well, he really wants to, but right now he’s too weary to feel anything. Not the happiness he wants to feel, but neither the cold dread that he knows would settle on his soul instead. Ragnor is eying him with a frown, but for once he refrains from any comment.

The road in front of ‘Cathedral Homes’ is closed off due to roadwork and all negotiating leads to nothing. In the end they have to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way. Even though they stop every now and then to let him get his breath back he’s at the end of his ropes by the time they step out of the elevator and reach their flat.

His legs are unsteady and his heart is fluttering in his chest, too shallow, too fast, like a hummingbird hovering above a flower. Blackness creeps into his vision as he stumbles through the living room with Catarina’s help and drops into the nearest armchair. His breaths wheeze pitifully loud in the room, but even though he can hear the audible proof that he actually _is_ breathing, he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. There are hands on him, opening the top buttons of his shirt then slipping something over his face and ears. Only when he inhales the sweet purity of oxygen does his head and sight clear enough to become aware of the nasal prongs that are hooked under his nose.

Catarina puts a pill onto his tongue, but it’s Ragnor who holds the glass of water to his lips. He’s frowning. Magnus hates it when he looks worried like that.

He manages a smile in return, or maybe just a weak shadow of a smile since it only makes the creases on his friend’s forehead deepen. Catarina tilts his chair back a bit until his feet are elevated, then drapes a blanket over him. His heart is still working overtime, but his breathing is a bit easier now. His eyes fall shut on their own accord and though he vaguely hears a voice say ‘rest now’ he couldn’t for the life of him say if it’s Ragnor’s or Catarina’s voice.

Magnus knows that his time is running out. Until recently he’d been completely at peace with that, but these days-- He’s still not afraid of dying, he’s made his peace with that a long time ago, but things have changed and new fears have found a foothold after all. But right now, his mind is blissfully blank with exhaustion, and he’s asleep in seconds.

He’s dreaming.

It’s dark, his eyes are closed. He’s lying on his back, his head rests comfortably in Alec’s lap. He knows it’s Alec, knows it from the way he breathes, from the way their heartbeats resonate with one another. They’re back at the lake, he can hear the soft lapping and gurgling of the water around him. Alec’s long fingers are caressing his face, tracing his eyebrows, his nose, his cheekbones. Soft lips join them, kissing his eyelids, his forehead, his lips. He’s floating and smiling lazily, but then he can’t feel Alec’s lap beneath his head anymore. He’s floating away, further and further and there’s nothing he can do. Alec’s hands remain on his face, trailing the length of it in one last caress and when the fingertips leave his skin he knows he lost them forever.

When he wakes again a few hours later tears are still running freely down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hurt, writing this. But in a good way?  
> I think I actually cried writing Alec's passing.  
> Anyway, I hope you don't hate me too much, since this chapter started so lovely and then ended on a high note of angst.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion in Alicante.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on tight, this is the wildest part of the rollercoaster!

 

** Alicante – the Saturday after **

Alec is dozing in the sun. His eyes closed behind his sunglasses he simply revels in the warmth on his bare skin and the dry smell of heated stone. The air gets cooler now but not cold enough yet to get up and put on more clothes. After the storm two days ago the weather has turned sunny again, perfect to stroll around the city and explore.

Dimly he’s aware of the noise of an engine, probably a car driving by, which does happen, although not very often as high up as the house is. It’s accompanied by a strange rattling, though. He’s just frowning – more annoyed by the noise than anything else – when the repeated honking of a car horn startles him to full alertness in an instant.

His eyes spring open. The sound is close, very close. Too close

_Dammit! Is it seven already? Shit!!!_

He’s totally lost track of time out here in the sun, half asleep. He’s on his feet in an second, hissing as his bare feet come in contact with the tiles. Even though the air might have cooled down, the tiles of the balcony floor still hold the heat of the afternoon sun. He hurries inside and only barely manages to avoid knocking into the coffee table since he suddenly finds himself in complete darkness after the glaring brightness outside. With an impatient motion he rips the sunglasses from his nose and throws them carelessly onto the couch, runs through the corridor and throws the door open.

The silly grin of anticipation on his face turns into an open mouthed stare.

There’s Magnus’ car, shiny and expensive as ever, but with the addition of at least ten big cans that are tied to the back of it. And then there’s Magnus. He’s leaning against the closed driver’s door, a cheeky smile on his face, looking otherworldly gorgeous. For a moment there Alec is sure he forgets how to breathe.

Magnus is wearing a bespoke suit in shining black, the lapels a royal blue that brings out the caramel tone of his skin. His elegant vest in the same royal blue is shot through with delicate patterns of golden thread and his white shirt underneath contrasts beautifully with the other colors, highlighting them even more. There’s more gold, subtle, but there: his cuff links, the buttons on his vest, a thin golden line running along the edge of the royal blue lapels. His nails are painted a matching blue, as are the highlights in his hair, he wears a black ear cuff on his left ear and a golden wedding band. It’s the only adornment there is on his long, slender fingers.

Magnus looks at him, then frowns in disappointment and gestures wildly in his direction as he lets his indignation bleed into his voice. “What’s this? You didn’t dress up for me?”

Alec is still staring dumbfounded. “You’re gorgeous!”

“And you’re in _shorts_! Not that I don’t like seeing more of your legs, honey, but-- I thought we have something to celebrate here!” He wiggles his hand with the golden ring in emphasis.

That finally tears him out of his stupor and he laughs. “We certainly do!” He thinks for only a second – fashion is really not his thing but he lets himself get influenced a bit by Magnus’ outfit. “How about this?”

And from one second to the next he’s dressed in a black suit with pale golden shirt, that only sparkled in the subltest of ways in the evening light, and a black bow tie. A delicate pattern of golden and royal blue thread is embroidered into the lapels of his suit and golden cuff links finish his ensemble. He’s sure he’s never sparkled as much in his whole life, but the look on Magnus’ face is definitely worth it. Being an Alicante resident comes with a few perks, changing some things according to one’s will is one of them, but he’s pretty sure that’s not why Magnus is gaping at him.

Alec takes full advantage of the situation, saunters over with a playful grin, grabs Magnus by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him in for a real, proper kiss. They’re both breathing hard by the time they finally part again, but Alec recovers first and winks at Magnus as he heads to the other side of the car and opens the door.

“Well, I’m ready! You coming?”

  


***

  


“It looks so real,” Alec muses and snuggles closer against Magnus, leaning his head onto his shoulders, which puts the spectacular hickey he’d kissed and sucked into the sensitive skin of that lovely neck into his line of sight again. With a reminiscent grin he tilts his head a bit farther and nudges the spot with his nose before placing a kiss on top of it, which elicits a tiny, yet infinitely pleasurable hiss from Magnus’ lips. His skin tastes a bit salty and he smells of sandalwood and leather and sex.

They had celebrated their wedding with a dinner at one of the noblest restaurants of the city and dined on everything someone could possibly desire. Alec had felt like someone being plunged head first into a fairytale but for once he hadn’t cared that he had no idea how to act or behave, he’d only been focused on Magnus the whole time. They had laughed and fed each other lobster tails and chocolate mousse and afterwards they’d danced on the restaurants moonlit terrace overlooking the glimmering, golden city and it’s reflection in the lake below. The only thing that could’ve made this moment even more precious and perfect would’ve been his siblings, sharing his happiness with him. He would’ve loved to hug them and thank them and ruffle Max’ hair if only to tease him and dance with Izzy, maybe even with Clary, and share a mock-annoyed glance with Jace over Simon’s antics.

But it only lasted for a moment, the melancholic yearning for something he had always had, if just in a different way. His siblings and Clary and Simon, they had always had his back and he’d said his goodbyes and if they are here or not he knows that they’re happy and that they’re happy for him and that’s enough.

Afterwards they hadn’t really felt like going to Taki’s, but also not like going home, so Magnus had chosen the lake. They’d been the only ones at this part of the shore and still are, a fact they’d very much appreciated as joyful, celebratory kisses had quickly turned passionate. They’d quickly come to regret not going back to their house and their comfortable bed, although the backseat of the car had certainly been an adventure, if not one made for two tall men. And yet he couldn’t remember if he’d ever laughed as much as during that stupid, ridiculous and yet exciting venture.

Now they’re both sitting on the hood of the car, snuggled together. Magnus’ suit jacket is still somewhere in the car, his shirt buttoned up again, but his vest hangs open, which gives him a delightfully sinful look. Alec’s tie got also lost somewhere on the backseat. The top three buttons of his shirt are open and his jacket is draped loosely over his shoulders.

“It really looks so real!” he says again, but he’s not talking about the hickey on Magnus’s skin. He’s talking about _everything_. Straightening up again he looks past Magnus towards the sparkling, golden lights of the city and the dark clouds that slowly push over the mountains and drown out the stars. He knows that none of it is real, all just some virtual reality filled with computerized consciousnesses, but even knowing it it’s hard to grasp. Hell, he’s not even sure if he _wants_ to grasp it, he only knows it’s the greatest gift he’s ever gotten. A second chance.

Pure joy fills his veins and warms his heart. A breathless chuckle bubbles up within him. “It feels _so real_!” And, to emphasize his words, he taps against the hood of the car and gives Magnus’ thigh a quick squeeze. Right before he chucks off the jacket with an impatient roll of his shoulders and hops off the car. He casts a quick grin towards Magnus, then jumps down the feet high border stone that separates the small parking area from the pepple beach. The memory of arriving here, on the lakeside, walking and teetering barefoot on uneven and pointy pebbles, is fresh on his mind. Endorphins still flooding his bloodstream. And he just laughs, loud and open and free, his arms stretched out and spinning in a circle, his feet slipping every now and then on the unstable ground, which only has him laughing more.

“What are you doing?” Magnus’ amused chuckle is like music in his ears. Alec knows he’s acting silly, but he’s never felt so full of life itself, so utterly, utterly happy that he has to scream it into the world otherwise it would rip him apart. And he also knows that with Magnus he never has to pretend, he can simply be himself.

“Oh, I love it here!” He stops spinning, stumbles a bit, then finds his footing. The world around him spins on a little bit longer – black and gold, black and gold – before his eyes can properly settle on Magnus’ smiling face, only illuminated by the golden shine of the nearby city. “I just love it!” All of it! Alicante, being able to walk and live and feel. Magnus. All of it!

Magnus shakes his head a bit, clearly enjoying his joy with him. “You’ve been here before, you realize that, right?”

Alec laughs. Of course he realizes that, it’s just not the same. Not at all. “But now I live here, Magnus. I _live_ here!” He walks back, jumps back up to the parking lot and stops right in front of his lo-- no, his _husband_. It still hits him every time anew, like a jolt, an electrical spark that runs along his nerves until his fingers tingle and all he wants is to grab a hold of Magnus and kiss him, if only to prove himself that it’s real.

Magnus looks beautiful like this. Content and happy and soft. And Alec knows, he just _knows_ with a sudden clarity.

“I love you!”

Magnus’ breath hitches. Something flits across his dark eyes, something like fear or sadness, something Alec can’t make sense of, but it’s gone so quickly he’s not sure it’s been there at all. “I-” Magnus licks his lips. It’s distracting. _Too_ distracting. Alec leans in and kisses those delicious lips, thinking that he knows what the other was about to say. He would’ve loved to hear it, but resisting those lips has been too hard a challenge. And Magnus kisses back, his hand buried in Alec’s hair.

They’re both breathing harder when they pull back.

“Be with me.”

Magnus chuckles. “I _am_ with you. Right here, right now.”

Alec rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Come on, you know what I mean, Magnus. Pass over. Not right now, but- when it’s your time.”

Magnus lets go of him and sits up straight again. “Alec--”

“Just, stay here with me.” It’s a plea. Not a desperate one, not yet, but one that’s been there now for a while, always in the background. Until now. He can’t imagine an Alicante without Magnus. And to be honest, he doesn’t want to either.

There’s something tight to the line of Magnus’ lips, a hint of tension in his jaw, and something sharp in his voice. “Can we just enjoy tonight?”

_But we already did!_

“It’s almost midnight. In ten, fifteen minutes you’re out of here and then I have to wait a whole week to see you again.” Alec’s hands settle on Magnus’ thighs. It’s not on purpose, more of an unconscious motion to keep him from leaving.

Magnus sighs, the smile gone from his face. “I told you, Alec. I’m just a visitor.”

“For what? A couple of months? Then what? You said it yourself, you don’t know how much time you have.”

A pair of warm hands grabs his wrists and pulls his hands away from Magnus’ legs. Hands that not long ago had brought pleasure in so many ways.

“We’re not discussing this!” There’s a hard look in Magnus’ eyes and a finality in his tone.

One that only ignites the need within Alec further. Time isn’t on his side but he just _has_ to get through to Magnus, just wants him to think about it again. So he simply goes on, as if Magnus hasn’t spoken at all. “And then you’re gone. Just gone. When you could have forever instead.”

Magnus huffs. “Forever? Who can even make sense of forever?”

“However long you want then. You can leave and just- just go whenever you want, just remove yourself like that.” He snaps his fingers. “It’s not a prison. It’s-- it’s _everything_. I mean, look at it! Just look!” Excitement bubbles within him, just as powerful as before. Why can’t Magnus see this place for what it is? “Jesus, _touch_ it!” Alec slaps his hand against the hood of the car, feeling it reverberate through his arm. It’s so real, each and every sensation. So damn real and beautiful and why won’t Magnus even consider sharing this with him?

It’s as if a curtain drops behind Magnus’ eyes, something blank to hide behind, like a barrier. Never before had he felt this separated from the other, even though they’re so close they’re all but touching.

With every muscle taut Magnus slides stiffly off the car. “Alright, I’m leaving.”

_No, no, no, no, no!_

“Hey! Hey!” Alec is quick to take a step forward. He’d never wanted to push Magnus away. Never. He takes it as a good sign when Magnus doesn’t pull away as he reaches out for him and gently frames his face with his hands. “It’s real. All of this.” After one last caress of his thumb his hands slip from Magnus’ face and slide down over his shoulders to his hands. There’s no resistance, just this strange look in Magnus’ eyes that he can’t read, as he guides Magnus’ hands up until they rest on his own cheeks. “And this is real as well. You. Me.” He grins tentatively and wiggles the fingers of his left hand a bit, his wedding band glinting in the dim, golden light. “Hmm?”

Magnus sighs, a bit of his tension finally bleeding from his face and posture, but this hint of pain and sadness is back in its stead and Alec isn’t sure which one he likes less.

“Come on, you know that was just a gesture.”

That hurts.

Yes, on some level Alec had suspected it, but still--

“You married me.” He hates how weak and defiant he sounds.

“To help you pass over. As a-- as a kindness.”

Blood is rushing in Alec’s ears with every too quick beat of his heart. No, this can’t be. He’s not some damn charity case! Can’t be! Not after everything.

He wants to shout at him ‘ _you said you think you’re falling in love with me, does that mean nothing now?_ ’, but he can’t, his voice gone. ‘ _But I love you_ ’ burns on his tongue and he’d thought Magnus would feel the same. Well, it seems he doesn’t.

If it weren’t for the strange look in Magnus’ eyes he might even believe him. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but anyway, he’s not willing to give up on the best thing that ever happened to him and Magnus is an integral part of just that.

“Leaving me, is that kindness, too?”

Magnus turns away from him in one swift motion, his open vest flapping against his torso. He’s about to leave. Leave him here at the lake in the middle of the night. Leave him in Alicante. Leave him forever. Doesn’t matter which it is, Alec just can’t take the thought. So he reaches out, his hand maybe even quicker than his mind on this one, and takes a hold of Magnus’ arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Slowly, Magnus turns just enough to face him again, his expression carefully closed off.

“Okay, look, I’m- I’m sorry Magnus. It’s just-- I got this chance here. _We_ got this chance. And I want nothing more than share it with you.”

“I already told you, Alec. I made my choice.” And just like that Magnus turns away from him again and walks away.

Just like that.

Something within him snaps. “What is it?” he shouts, desperate and uncomprehending, and so he grabs for the anger within, embraces it in his helplessness. With determined steps, he follows him. “You feel bad because your wife isn’t here? Is that it? That was _her_ choice!”

As if an invisible wall has suddenly appeared right in front of him, Magnus stops dead. The tension in his shoulders is hard to miss; the tone of his voice is dangerous. A warning. “Don’t.”

A warning Alec doesn’t head. He wants answers! A reaction! Anything that tells him that their time together has been real. He wants to understand what’s going on and how this amazing night has suddenly turned into a nightmare.

“She chose not to stay here. That’s on her. She _left you_.” Magnus whips about and shoots him a dark glare, his lips pressed into a thin line. “She could have stayed, but she _chose_ to leave you.”

“Don’t speak of things you know nothing about!”

Alec can see the barely contained anger boil beneath the surface. It’s in the coiling muscles of his neck, the clench of his jaw and, most of all, the dangerous vibration in his voice. He can also see the pain in Magnus’ eyes, hidden behind the anger, and he hates it. Hates it all. This has never been his intention. He doesn’t want to hurt Magnus, but then, Magnus has hurt him, too. It’s petty and childish and _that_ he hates even more. He doesn’t want to be like this, but he doesn’t know how to stop or fix this either. So he barges on in the vague hope of maybe pushing him far enough to make him _see_.

He grabs for Magnus’ hands. To form a connection or to keep him from running, at this point he isn’t sure himself anymore.

“You should be mad at _her_! Not whipping yourself with guilt!”

“Get off me!” Magnus tears free of his hold and takes a step back.

“You just can’t see it, Magnus!” he forces out, almost shouting as if he could break through the wall Magnus put up by sheer volume alone. “What she did was _selfish_!”

Crack!

Pain explodes in his left cheek.

And for a second, a horrible, endless second, he’s back at his parents’ place, the lingering sounds of angry words becoming one with the white noise that suddenly fills his ears, his mind. He takes a step back, the motion sudden and hurried, afraid of the strong grip and hard shove that he knows will come next, but as he blinks through the memory, through the fog of halting breaths and thundering heartbeats, it’s not his father in front of him. It’s Magnus. He stares, rooted to the spot, his hand covering his stinging cheek, his mind a mess of shock, confusion, betrayal.

But then he blinks again and this time he _sees_ Magnus and he just knows that he’s crossed a line.

Magnus is practically shaking with barely controlled emotions, but anger is just one of them. The intensity in his dark eyes alone has Alec holding his breath. He almost wishes it were his father in front of him, because this – _this_ – is so much worse.

“Fifty-eight years--” There is no velvet, no honey, just something so raw that it hurts, something so sharp that it cuts right into him. Every word weighed, chosen with care yet pressed out, as if their force will rip him apart if he’s not careful with them. “I was with her for fifty-eight years.” Alec gasps, at the words, at their meaning that he cannot possibly comprehend, at the rough, trembling voice. At the wide eyes in front of him, shining with unshed tears. “You can’t begin to imagine-- you cannot know what that means! Fifty-eight years! That’s-- the bond, the commitment, the boredom, the yearning, the laughter, the love of it. The fucking love of it!” Magnus’ voice sounds loud in the silence of the lake all around.

And he’s right. Alec can’t.

“You just cannot know! Everything we sacrificed. The years I gave her. The years she gave me. Did you ever think to ask?”

Alec flinches back as if hit again. He wants to shout out, to defend himself, but there’s a thick lump in his throat. And even if it weren’t, Magnus’ expression alone is enough to keep him quiet. He’s never seen this much pain in his eyes, the pain of a lifetime. Ashamed, he has to admit that Magnus is right, he never asked. Not about his wife or his life. Yes, Magnus is a master of deflection, he never shares anything he doesn’t want to, but that doesn’t excuse him from not even _asking_. Too immersed in his own head, his own struggle, his own bliss. He’d forgotten that unlike him everyone here has already lived a full life.

Forgotten, or unwilling to acknowledge.

No, _afraid_ to acknowledge.

Tears are finally spilling from Magnus’ eyes. “Did it ever occur to you to ask? Dorothea and I, we had a son. Raphael, our precious boy. Headstrong and clever. Always difficult. But always loyal and kind. A gentle soul behind a rough exterior. He died, just twenty-nine years old. Dorothea and I- it broke our hearts, but our hearts broke _together_. You really think you’re the only person who ever suffered? Go to hell!”

Magnus spins around, ready to leave and pissed, so damn pissed. Alec still sees his wide-eyed, tear-stained face right in front of him. He’s shocked.

“No, Magnus--” Desperate, although he’s not really sure for what exactly, he reaches for Magnus yet again and grabs his arm. He can barely look him in the eyes after this, ashamed and guilty for it’s _him_ who’s acted selfish all this time, only thinking of himself. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know--”

“And didn’t think to,” Magnus says as he turns towards him slowly, a tear dropping from his chin and staining the impeccable white of his slightly rumpled shirt. “You know, when she was dying, they offered her this, to pass through, pass over, spend eternity in this fucking graveyard that you’re so in love with. Do you know what Dorothea said to me then? She said, ‘How can I? When our boy missed out, how can I?’ And so she went. And I wish I could believe that she’s with him now, that they’re together somewhere, but I don’t. I believe they’re nowhere. I believe they’re just gone, like you said. Gone.”

_Oh my God!_

He hadn’t known.

Alec doesn’t know what to say or do. The urge to hug Magnus is strong, simply because he hates seeing him in this much pain and distress, but he’s not sure Magnus would want him to. His subconcious didn’t get the message, though.

Without really thinking about it he moves closer towards Magnus, but Magnus takes a step back right away and holds his hands up to signal him to stop. “No! I pitied you and that’s the truth.”

‘I never wanted your pity! That’s why I didn’t want you to come meet me, I don’t _want_ your pity!’ The words are there in his mind, but where he might have shouted them in the other’s face at any other time, right now, after everything he just learned they somehow lost their importance. They still hurt, though.

But Magnus hurts as well, it’s all there in his eyes. Old anguish that never truly healed as well as new pain. He translates it into anger. “I pitied you. And now you give me a freaking sales pitch about how damn peachy forever could be?”

“I’m sorry!” It’s all Alec has and he knows it’s not enough. How could it be?

“You want to spend forever somewhere nothing matters?” Magnus spats. “End up like Heidi? Like all those lost creatures at Pandemonium, trying anything to feel something? End up like Camille? Everything human within long dead, only living for the thrill of playing with those other lost souls? Well, go ahead then! But I’m out. I’m gone!”

This time when Magnus turns, Alec isn’t grabbing for his arm, too stunned to move. By the time he gets his grip again it’s already too late and the car door slams shut, the noise so loud and sudden Alec startles.

The ignition is turned on and the car roars to life.

With one quick step he’s at the car, the window still down from earlier. “Magnus, I’m sorry!”

Magnus doesn’t even look his way, he just pulls back and drives off into the night.

“ _MAGNUS!_ ”

A nameless fear settles in his guts as he watches the rear lights of the car vanish between the trees. A dread that’s churning within him and the soft stinging of his cheek only makes it worse. So much worse. For he knows how badly it can end when you storm off in anger and turmoil like that. He knows that Magnus ususally keeps his pain-slider on zero, but somehow that does nothing to ease his mind.

Nothing could ease his mind now, nor his guilt, because this time it’s _him_ who’d driven a loved one away with his ignorance. Just like his parents had done to him.

_This can’t end like this. Please don’t let it end like this! God, I’m so sorry!_

And although he knows that it’s too late, he still screams at the top of his lungs, “ _MAGNUS!_ ”

  


***

  


The dark landscape rushes past him, the cones of light from his car illuminating the road with shocking clarity, yet beyond their range the darkness of the night lurked. Waiting.

Magnus’ knuckles are white around the steering wheel. Just a few moments ago his anger had burned hot in his veins, the shock and realization on Alec’s face only raging him on further because it just _proved his point_ , but he couldn’t grasp it anymore. Not like before. Where there’d been blind rage there is now nothing but chaos and turmoil.

He doesn’t know what to feel.

Dammit! He should’ve never let Alec in, he’d known from the very beginning that it could only end badly. And now it has. Oh damn, it has. Shit! He should’ve never allowed himself to feel anything for anyone in here. He should’ve stayed away the moment he’d realized that Alec posed a threat. But no, he’d been an idiot and headed headfirst into his own undoing. And even interlinking their outside lives as well?

God, what a mess!

One giant mistake by his own making! Such a fool!

Instinctively he presses his foot down harder, feels the car accelerating even further, the landscape rushing by faster. He needs to get away, just away from it all. Outrun the mess, the panic that slowly but surely seizes his heart. Outrun the hurt and guilt and doubt.

The tires screech as he yanks the steering wheel to the left and the car careens around the bend in the road. His heart is hammering frantically in his chest, trying to break out through his ribs, but it’s not because of the speed. It’s because no matter how fast he tries to run away he just can’t get rid of Alec’s face. It’s still right there, in his mind’s eye, shocked and open, eyes shining bright, so full of anguish – for _him_. Wrecked with guilt for never asking.

Again he pushes his foot down even harder, all the way this time. Hoping that maybe, just maybe he might finally accelerate enough to leave that face behind. The curvy road meanders just along the lakeside, the steep slopes of the mountains to his left and to his right the pebble beach and the lake, only separated from the road by a concrete guarding rail and a one yard drop.

Something blinks on his dashboard. Just a short flick of something, then it’s gone. Still, it draws his gaze. It’s the clock.

11:58pm

Two minutes left.

There’s another bend of the road up ahead and the thought is just there. Out of the blue. _What if_ …

His hands slip from the steering wheel. He only wants to get away from it all. Just away.

The road turns left and the car goes straight ahead, crashes against the guarding rail at full speed and his world explodes in motion and noise. Still, he barely registers the horrible screeching and crashing of twisting metal or the cracking of glass as he gets hurled right through the windshield. The world around him spins, dark and faint light in a quick and dizzying swirl. His stomach lurches. And then he crashes into the ground, his breath getting knocked out of him right away. His arms flail as his body whirls and spins and millions of pebbles rip at and shred his clothes.

When he finally comes to a halt he lies motionless on the ground.

There’s no pain, no injuries. His pain-slider set to zero.

Magnus wishes it weren’t. He wants to feel it. Wants something to hurt more than the pain inside of him that’s ripping him apart.

He loves Alexander. He _loves_ him.

But he loves Dorothea as well. His generous, soulful Dorothea. And he loves their beautiful, proud boy. He loves them, _aches_ for them, and he can’t, he just can’t…

A sob breaks free and more follow. Tears are streaming freely down his face as his body shakes.

He’s still here. He can hear the water of the lake lapping at the shore, can feel the gravel underneath his hands and cheeks. He can feel the rain, as the first drops fall heavy and cold onto his head and neck and arms. The sound of it, the soft, wet pitter-patter of raindrops connecting with the surface of the lake, is soothing, like a promise to wash it all away. And yet it only makes him cry harder.

A hand touches his shoulder.

He startles at the unexpectedness. Startles at the silent comfort it brings.

Slowly he pushes himself up onto his elbows, then his hands. His white shirt hangs in tatters about his arms. Although he knows what he’ll find he looks anyway. It still forces another choked sob from his lips. It’s Alec – of course it is – kneeling beside him. And he’s smiling at him, a sad smile yet so full of hope, of forgiveness and pleading all at once. Alec reaches out a hand for him to take, to help him up, the other one still resting gently on his shoulder.

Magnus can’t breathe. Alec is so damn beautiful in the rain, his golden shirt half transparent where it clings to his chest, but it’s that smile that keeps him captivated. God, he wants him. He wants him so damn much, but he can’t. He _can’t_.

He reaches out anyway, never looking away from those bright, hazel eyes…

  


  


  


** New York - midnight **

… and wakes up to the sight of his dimly lit living room and his own wheezing breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really puts a twist on the whole immortality talk from the show ;)  
> Also, I know, the ending of this chapter is really, really mean.
> 
> If it helps... I cried writing this one as well... with Magnus on the beach after the crash. He's just so torn and it kills him and writing it hasn't been easy. 
> 
> Was it too much? Too mean? Let me know what you think :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus could use a friend right now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter one.

 

** New York – the next day **

“You’re an idiot!”

Magnus blinks, his dark spiral of gloomy and self-deprecating thoughts interrupted by a seriously annoyed English voice. Ragnor steps further into the room, as always dressed impeccably in yet another horrid tweed combination, this time in bland beige with a dark brown cravat. With an expression that seems to say ‘I’m done with this shit, but since it’s you I’ll try my best to appear patient and understanding’ he sinks heavily into his favorite armchair, groaning softly in the process. No doubt his hip is giving him trouble again.

“Come again?”

Ragnor snorts. “You heard me just fine! But I’ll gladly repeat myself: you’re an idiot!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This time, Ragnor rolls his eyes, then gives a nondescript wave of his hand in his general direction. “I’m talking about that pathetic, miserable grimace of a face that you expect me to put up with since this morning. I know you, Magnus, and I know that face of yours. You’re beating yourself up. And since you’ve been to Alicante last night I can only assume you messed it up with the boy. Therefore: you’re an idiot.”

“He’s hardly a ‘boy’.”

“Ah!” One of Ragnor’s bushy eyebrows rises gleefully. “So you _did_ mess it up.”

Magnus clenches his teeth and looks away. He’s not at all in the mood for this and would gladly leave, but his joints hurt and his chest feels tight. Overall, getting here had been laborious enough. Well, that and he knows that he probably deserves a few harsh words. He _did_ mess it up. God, he’d _slapped_ Alec! He’s no better than those people who call themselves his parents. He hears Ragnor sigh heavily and he doesn’t have to look to know that he’s leaning forward by now, his elbows on his knees.

“You know what I’ve always admired about you?”

Alright, that’s not what he expected. Surprised, but also wary – this is still Ragnor talking – he does turn back to look at his friend after all, subconsiously fiddling with an ear cuff he isn’t wearing anymore for ages. Old habits die hard, it seems.

He’d been right, Ragnor is leaning forward, his expression the one he mostly wears when talking to him: a mix between fond and long-suffering.

“I – and don’t let this get to your head – I always admired your ease in social gatherings. You always had this way with people. They like you, they listen to you, they come to you for advice. Sure, you’re charming and good with words and dear Lord, this _will_ get to your head, won’t it? Anyway, I think the two things that had people rally around you all your life have always been the same: your insatiable love of life and the way you care. You’ve always cared so much about others and they could _feel_ that. That’s why everyone loved you.”

A bitter sound escapes his lips. Those words paint the image of a man he barely recognizes anymore. “That’s been a long time ago.”

“Exactly!” Ragnor almost shouts. “Ever since Dot died you’ve withered away and it hurt to watch. But then these last weeks I finally saw that old Magnus Bane again. Sparkling with life and mischief and joy. You were _happy_!” There’s a strange longing in his friend’s voice that he hasn’t heard very often, open and sad. His eyes shine brightly in the light from the window, even though his frown paints his forehead in shadows. “I’ve _missed_ seeing you happy, my friend! I _want_ to see you happy! So please, what could’ve possibly happened to cause-- _this_?” His friend just vaguely gestures towards him where he sits on the couch, slouching and brooding in sweatpants and a sweater.

Magnus sighs, his heart aching. It’s never been his intention to hurt Ragnor. He huffs a bitter laugh. It hadn’t been his intention to hurt Alec, either. Maybe he’s doomed to hurt everyone he loves.

“Talk to me, Magnus. Please.”

“He asked me to pass over.” The words taste bitter in his mouth.

The frown on Ragnor’s forehead deepens even further before he sighs. He steeples his fingers together – as much as he’s able to – and nudges them against his chin. “You have to have known that he’d ask that sooner or later, right?”

That’s just it, isn’t it?

He closes his eyes, as if he could escape his reality this way. “Of course I did, but--”

“You weren’t ready for it.”

No, not one bit. Which is so damn silly because he’d known from the beginning and still he’d hoped that maybe… _Argh!_

Magnus shakes his head, first in answer to the question but soon in irritation with himself. Shakes it until he’s dizzy. He groans. “I’m eighty-seven.” His head sinks back against the couch. Nonetheless he brings his hands up to cover his face, his fingers stiff and his skin leathery and old. Somehow, after all these years his hands feel less like his own than the ones he wears in Alicante. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love again.”

A chuckle sounds through the room. “As if age has anything to do with it. You cannot plan love. It just happens.”

Oh, what great wisdom! And yet he can’t help the noise that escapes his lips. But muffled by his hands or not, even he’s not sure if it’s a laugh, a huff or a sob.

There’s the soft rustling of fabric and a creaking sound, followed by a quiet groan. He hears the shuffling steps of his friend. Is he leaving? No, the thought is absurd and yet his heart beats faster at the mere possibility. Sure, he’d thought he wanted to be left alone and just suffer in silence, but that’s not true. He doesn’t want Ragnor to leave. Which he doesn’t, of course, as he learns a moment later as the couch dips next to him and the spicy smell of Ragnor’s aftershave tickles his nose. It’s comforting in its familiarity.

A hand is placed on his knee, the fingers bent and rheumy, their grip loose. “You’re torn between Alexander and Dorothea and Raphael.” Ragnor huffs softly next to him.“You really do love this boy.”

Magnus takes a deep breath. He lets his hands fall down into his lap and lifts his head to look at his friend. This close for once he can see the sharp angles of his face, the sallowness of his skin that hasn’t been there a few weeks ago, but also the warm sympathy in his brown eyes.

“What do I do?”

Ragnor doesn’t answer right away, but thinks about it instead. “Remember when you came to me all those years ago, a few weeks after you met Dot for the first time?”

Magnus nods. So far he’s got no idea where this is going but he trusts his friend, even though he’s not sure he wants to go on this trip down memory lane.

His friend chuckles. “Good Lord, you’ve fallen so hard for that girl. And you were devastated. Your father forbade you to ever see her again, since a lowly hairdresser wasn’t good enough for his son. And you’ve learned that Dot was engaged to that slimy bastard. What was his name again?”

Where the memory of his father causes him goosebumps even today, the mere mentioning of Dot’s first fiancé almost makes him gag. He opts for a growl instead. “Lorenzo Rey.”

“Ah yes, Lorenzo. What a spiv! Luckily for you Dot thought so, too. But before you knew that she was about to leave him, you were devastated. You were brooding and feeling sorry for yourself.” Yeah, not his proudest moments… “I told you back then, that-”

“If a love like that comes to you,” he interrupts Ragnor, his words from such a long time ago still vivid in his memory, “you must do everything in your power to fight for it!”

A sly smile spreads on Ragnor’s lips. “So you do remember.”

His own lips twitch in an answering smile, tentative and hesitant at first – it feels strange and foreign on his face – but before it has a chance to grow into a real one it falls again already as the meaning of Ragnor’s words finally registers. The freshly awoken memories of his Dot only make it worse. On instinct he looks to the small table to his left, next to the couch, or more precisely the three picture frames upon it. He reaches out and takes one in his lap, his fingertips trailing over the smooth glass as if they could somehow touch the people in it.

It’s one of their last family pictures, from the summer before Raphael’s surgery. They were out in a fancy restaurant together to celebrate something. It’s a nice picture, him and Dot smiling happily, their hands entwined on the table, and Raphael in his nice black suit, smiling that slightly strained smile of his that said ‘I’m just doing this because I love you’. He’d never liked having his picture taken.

They’d been so happy back then, without even knowing.

Tears burn in his eyes. “What about them? I can’t just-- They’re not--”

“Hey.” The fingers on his knees squeeze his leg gently, but it’s the tenderness in his friends voice, that unconditional support that helps him to get a grip on his emotions again. When he looks up from the picture frame, Ragnor is already looking at him. “I know you believe they’re just gone, but that’s not true.”

Magnus huffs out a breath. The words have an ugly sting to it. “If that’s a cheap trick at trying to convince me of an afterlife, then don’t. Just don’t.”

Taken aback, Ragnor’s eyes widen a fraction. “You should know me better than that!” Ragnor is right, he _does_ know him too well to actually believe his own words. “What I’m saying is, as long as you’re here, as long as you remember them--” His friend turns a bit further and places his free hand on Magnus’ chest, right over his straining heart. “--they will always be here.”

His breath hitches, his eyes still blinking fast against the tears that still threaten to fall. He reaches up and closes one of his own hands over that of his friend and for a while they simply sit like this. Silent, but together. He’s still torn, though for the first time since last night he feels like he can breathe again.

After a while Ragnor gently extricates his hand from his grip and gives him another slight squeeze of his leg instead. “But it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s _your_ decision to make, my friend. And I know it’s not an easy one. But know this: no matter what you decide, I’ll always be here for you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVED writing this. I just adore Ragnor and I love the idea of their friendship.
> 
> Also, I couldn't resist the temptation of putting Lorenzo in this. I actually kind of like the guy. Well, maybe not like, but... yeah, I do. I think I actually kind of like him in a very strange way, although that doesn't show in here.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one, even though there was no Alec in it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week in Alicante...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And an even shorter chapter. Sorry. But as I said, one chapter equals one day. Nothing else of importance happened this day, so...
> 
> Next chapter will be a short one, too (although a bit longer than this one) and the last two will be longer again.

 

** Alicante – one week later **

The muscles in his thighs burn like hell.

Almost there.

Sweat is running down his face and his back, this one annoying strand of hair – completely soaked through already – is flicking into his eye again and again. He wipes at it for the umpteenth time, quick, impatient. It flops right back.

He can see the house!

By the time he finally reaches the door he almost collapses right there and then, his legs like jelly. Burning jelly. Burning, melting jelly. Panting for breath he leans against the wall of the house, his head hanging low between his shoulders. Going for a run had been a great idea up to the point where he remembered that he lived all the way up the mountainside. A rather steep mountainside. And – of course – by the time he remembered that he could travel at will in here, his pride hadn’t let him take the easy way out. Or slide his pain-slider down from one to zero.

No, a little discomfort is part of the experience!

He pushes himself up again and winces as his thighs protest at the prospect of moving. Huffing, Alec shakes his head at himself. It soon turns into a laugh.

He hurts, yes, but he _hurt_ _s_! He can feel it, he can run up a mountain again!

The joy, shooting through his veins, riding the wave of endorphins like he is riding their double high, only lasts until he steps into the house again. The picture is right there, framed and at least a foot wide, hanging right in the entrance area: a photograph of a jetty at a twilit lake with two men on it, one sitting, the other one lying on his back with his head in the first one’s lap. They’re far enough away that you couldn’t make out their faces, but Alec doesn’t need to see them to know it’s them. It’s from the night they’d had a picnic at the lake.

His laughter dies and his face falls.

It doesn’t matter how much his legs ache, they can’t compare to the aching emptiness within him.

It’s the house.

During the days he’s out, exploring Alicante or the valley. And when he’s not exploring he’s doing all the things he has dreamt about for decades, ordinary things he’d longed to do for ages, like eating ice cream, go for a swim or a run. It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining or if it’s raining, he’s always outside, enjoying this second chance to its fullest. He can’t remember when he last felt this _alive_.

But by the end of the day he comes back to the house and it’s suffocating him with its emptiness. The silence haunts him and the feeling of something – some _one_ – missing is so acute he sometimes thinks that the complete isolation of his own body in his room at the care facility hadn’t been this lonely. But at the same time each room holds an abundance of memories that tear at his heart each time anew. The fruity smell of the tea they’d never shared; the balcony where Magnus had proposed to him; the rumpled sheets a reminder of passion shared in that very same bed that had always been so full of warmth and light and laughter, but now it’s just far too big. And cold.

To make matters worse, photographs are everywhere. On the wall, in picture frames. Photographs of their time together, cuddling on the couch, laughing in the car, checking each other out while playing pool. All of them pictures they had never taken. And yet they are here now and they, more than anything, transform this house into a home.

_Their_ home.

If there even is a ‘they’ anymore.

For a quick moment he’d considered taking the pictures down, but he just couldn’t. Putting them away is too much like giving up, as if he were accepting that Magnus won’t come back. Shaking his head he pushes past the picture and into the bathroom. As soon as he’s peeled off his soaked clothes he steps into the shower and under the pleasantly cool stream of water.

He misses Magnus. He misses him so much it hurts. It pains him to be in this house, being surrounded with everything that isn’t anymore, and yet he can’t imagine being anywhere else. He’d been such an idiot!

Every night when he closes his eyes, he sees Magnus back on that beach in the rain, his clothes in ruins and with tears streaming down his face. He’d looked so utterly lost, like a man drowning in the sea, still strong enough to swim for a while longer but with not the slightest idea which way to find land.

Will he ever see him again?

No, he can’t think like that, he can’t--

But yesterday had been Saturday and he’d waited the whole night. Waited right here with Magnus’ favorite cocktail and an apology for that stupid, stupid argument he so very much regrets by now.

Magnus hadn’t shown.

Saturday night and Magnus hadn’t been there.

His eyes burn and he quickly closes them and holds his face into the cool water. The cold dread that claws at his insides though is still there and doesn’t wash away this easily.

It’s all his fault! His own damn fault.

God, if only he could turn back time and make it right! He doesn’t care about forever, not anymore. He’ll gladly take whatever time he can get with Magnus, be it weeks or hours, if it only means that he’ll come back, that he hadn’t scared him away for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me for hurting my boys...


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus thinks about the people he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last short chapter, I promise.
> 
> Enjoy some family feels with Madzie :)

 

** New York – a few days later **

The sun is warm and almost too bright out on the balcony. Magnus watches two blackbirds fighting over the last strawberry, which explains why Catarina never got to harvest any from the little plant in the corner. He feels faint today, tired. Even walking just the few steps out here to the chair had taken so much out of him that Catarina had brought the oxygen tank and hooked him up. It’s been like this ever since visiting Alexander. The two consecutive trips had been taxing, physically and emotionally, and somehow he’d never really gotten his strength back. He feels tired and weary, day in, day out.

Which only leaves him with nothing else to do but think or sleep and dream about Alexander. And Raphael and Dot.

Ragnor is inside, napping in his favorite armchair like every afternoon, but Catarina is right beside him, enjoying the lovely day by reading up on some scientific research on her pad. They’re not alone on the balcony though. Madzie, Catarina’s adorable daughter, is currently playing on a blanket on the floor. She’s a lovely girl, clever for her age and with a big, open heart. Right now she’s in the middle of a tea party with her favorite doll and a few of her stuffed animals, but she’s brought a sketch block and coloring pencils as well.

The blackbirds are gone again and his gaze settles back on Madzie, on the bright yellow hairband in her hair, the one with the yellow flower on top that she loves so much. They had glued the flower on together to pimp the bland thing into something special. The little girl is oblivious to him, just carrying on with her innocent play, explaining to her ‘guests’ that it was nice of them to come, but they had to leave now so she could draw. It makes his heart ache. Watching her hug a plush cat with big yellow-green eyes – for some reason that he still can’t fathom she named it ‘Magnus’ of all things – awakes memories of another young child so very, very long ago. Raphael had never been as gentle in his games as Madzie, but there had been this one plush animal that he’d loved with all his heart: a dog named Luke, although, stubborn as ever, Raphael had insisted that it was a wolf, not a dog.

The memory has him smile, but it’s a wistful one.

Life hasn’t been fair, taking his boy from him far too soon. One moment he’d been fine and the next he’d been dying from complications of a routine surgery. Dot had cried for days, utterly inconsolable. He’d held it together at first, for her, only to completely break apart a few days later. Many marriages break over a loss like theirs, but losing Raphael, their only child, so unexpectedly had somehow knit them even closer together. A bond, born of love and adoration, tightened and strengthened by their shared pain. Nevertheless, their wounds had never truly healed. Always tender, always painful, they’d just learned to live with them.

Magnus closes his eyes with a deep breath, shooing every painful memory away with his wheezy exhale. Instead he holds his face up towards the sun. His eyelids glow red and orange and he can make out a few blood vessels as the bright light shines through the thin barrier of skin. Old as it may be, his skin still feels the warmth and soaks it up. And he remembers Alexander doing just the same back when they’d arrived at the lake the first time.

He remembers the pure and simple joy on his face, the soft smile, so completely at peace in that very moment-- and his heart aches even more.

He misses him. Misses the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. The way his voice grows all husky when they’re intimate. He misses his gentle fingers, carding through his hair. Misses wrapping his arms around him and holding him close.

He remembers looking up into the night, rain falling down onto his face and uncomfortable gravel beneath his elbows. His chest tight with despair, unsure what to do or think. He’d been so angry and lonely and lost, so very very lost and torn, and Alec had been there. And somehow he had understood, had touched him and reached out towards him. He had wanted nothing more than to grab that hand, let himself get pulled up and bury himself against that broad chest.

Life, as always, had had other plans.

It takes him a moment to notice, but he’s unconsciously rubbing his thumb over the ring on his ringfinger. But the wedding band there is not the one he remembers from that wonderful and desastrous night. It’s the one from his marriage with Dot.

“Magnus, look!”

Madzie startles him out of his thoughts as she jumps up and keeps running towards him with a piece of paper waving in her left hand. She hurries towards him and snuggles close to his side. On instinct he puts an arm around the girl and hugs her while she places her drawing on his lap. Her slim shoulders feel so very much like the slim shoulders of a boy he’d hugged a long ago.

“What do we have here?” he asks, his voice cracking.

She beams at him. “It’s for you!”

It’s a domestic picture with four people in it. To the right there’s a black woman with pots and colorful things he can’t identify. In the corner is an old man sitting in an armchair, reading a book. There’s a flower garland around his neck and thick, grumpy eyebrows dominate his face. In the middle of the picture are another old man with crudely drawn slitted eyes and a black girl. The girl also has a flower garland around her neck. They’re sitting at a table full of flowers.

His next breath is shakier than the one before, the lump in his throat not helping either. He knows exactly what he’s looking at, they’d often played together or done crafts of all kind together, like making these fake flower garlands.

Madzie is oblivious to his distress, an explanation gushing out of her with all the proud enthusiasm of a child. “This is you,” she says and points to the old man at the table, “and that’s me. We’re making flower garlands. And that’s Mommy, she’s making dinner for all of us. And that’s Ragnor. He pretends to not like his garland, but he does. Everybody likes flowers. The next garland we make is for you and then--”

Tears are burning in his eyes. He nods away anyway, although at some point he can’t follow her anymore and he’s sorry for that, but he doesn’t want to cry in front of her, it would only upset the girl and that’s the last thing he wants to do. So he swallows around the lump in his throat and puts a smile on his face and praises her, pointedly not thinking of anything.

Not of the day they’d crafted flower garlands, Madzie’s proud and joyful laugh filling the room as Ragnor had allowed her to put the first one on him.

Not of the way his chest tightens right now and his heart flutters in it, like a distressed bird in a cage.

And certainly not of another joyful laugh, ringing in his ears as big brown eyes gleamed full of pride at building something all on his own for the first time. A laugh that had turned deep and full and rare later on, replaced by mostly sly or cheeky grins and rumbling chuckles.

His hand shakes as he takes the picture and presses it against his chest with a big smile, that feels like understatement and lie all at once. “It’s absolutely beautiful! Thank you, Sweet Pea!”

She beams at him, but he can see her mother in the corner of his eyes, looking at him with a frown.

“I’ll make another one for Ragnor!” she declares, then looks at her pencils and shouts, already halfway at the door. “I need my sharpener.”

She’s off in the blink of an eye, too fast to have heard anything of Cat’s warning to not wake Ragnor. Magnus’ breaths are still shaky, the paper rustling where it’s trapped between his heaving, wheezing chest and his hand. His eyes still burn and the sun is warm on his face.

_As long as you remember them, they will always be here._

He takes a deep breath, as deep as his aching chest allows, and reaches out for Catarina’s hand, his fingers tremble softly as they close around her warm ones. She puts the pad down into her lap and looks at him, worry edged into her beautiful face.

“Are you alright, Magnus?”

He nods, the motion barely there yet unmistakably a nod. He can see right away that he’s not fooling her, not for one second. Still, he nods again. After all it’s more than an answer for her, it’s also the quiet answer to the one question that had plagued him for a while now. One last assurance towards himself that it’s the right thing to do.

His face still turned towards the sun he closes his eyes and soaks up the peace that it brings. “I’m ready.”

“Ready?”

The hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “Yes. Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, I found a way to get the cat-eyes into this AU ;) Magnus, the plushie-cat ;D
> 
> I know, I know, another painful chapter, but I needed to make it clear why it's so hard for Magnus. 
> 
> Feel free to share your thoughts!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The emotional rollercoaster comes to an end...

 

** New York – two days later **

“Will you come for a visit?”

The words are just there. He knows the answer already, but still, there’s this faint glimmer of hope. Faint light of a gray morning falls in through the window and does nothing whatsoever for Ragnor’s complexion. His friend is standing at the foot of his bed, his back straight and tall, one eyebrow raised in a complicated mixture of disgust and pain and annoyance and for a moment, one tiny little moment Magnus sees the proud, intelligent and grumpy man again that he’d been once. Brown hair still thick and shiny, the gaze from his brown eyes sharp and analyzing, his features handsome and his mannerism impeccable and polite. Many women and men had been attracked until they’d learned of his deadliest weapon: his words. Not everyone is suited to a wit as barbed as his, let alone such brutal honesty.

Although he’d suffered many a wound from it, Magnus had always valued those qualities the most about his friend.

“You know I won’t. I’m sorry, my friend, but as much as I’d love to spend more time with your truly obnoxious self, I can’t. You know I hold no love for the idea of a digital graveyard, much less the idea of entrusting a company with the very essence of who I am.”

Though that glimmer of hope dies in his chest and leaves a painful ache in its place he’s smiling. A real smile. Magnus leans further back into the pillow at his back. “And you think one lifetime is more than enough, I know.” There’s no reproach in his voice, just fondness.

Ragnor’s eyes widen in mock-surprise and he laughs. Magnus misses that deep, rumbling sound already. “Well, it seems you _did_ listen from time to time when I was talking.”

“Maybe once or twice.”

For a moment they share a laugh, chuckling with one another as only old friends could. There’s no need to share big words or lengthy speeches or hidden secrets, for they know it all already. Everything there is to say they’d already said a long time ago, leaving a quiet understanding in its wake, a bond that needs no words.

Magnus shakes his head a bit. “It’s a pity. You’d fit right in with the ‘Children of Lilith’ setting.” Although he says it with all the levity he can muster, he also means it.

His friend frowns and rubs his chin with his fingers. “Is that the one with the library you keep nagging me about?”

“The ‘Spiral Labyrinth’, yeah.”

“What a stupid name for a library!”

Silence fills the room. Not uncomfortable, but it’s a heavy one that presses down on his shoulders and his chest, leaving him with no room to breathe. He looks up at his friend and he knows his eyes will tell Ragnor all there is to tell and he can see in the minute changes of his friend’s expressions that he understands and that it’s just as hard for him, but it hurts and it’s harder than he had expected and just this once, just this once he needs to say the words, needs to hear them out loud.

“I hate leaving you.”

“Don’t!” Ragnor smiles, but there is a brightness to his eyes that he’d deny to his dying day. With few steps he closes the distance between them and sits down on the mattress next to him, albeit with a wince of pain. His smile is back a moment later, an almost cheeky quality to it. “I’ll be fine. I finally get Catarina all to myself, after all.”

Magnus can’t help but chuckle, though he quickly stops as it threatens to turn into a sob.

“And don’t forget,” Ragnor goes on, serious this time. “You can’t get rid off me that easily. I’ll always be right here, too!” He reaches out and taps his fingers against Magnus’ chest. “Now, lets call them in and get this done before this gets even sappier than it already is.”

“Yeah, lets,” he croaks with a smile, sounding just as shaky and hoarse as his friend.

A quick call later Catarina comes into the bedroom with Magnus the plush cat in her arms and Dr. Penhallow in her wake, the woman as always nothing but serious professionalism framed with long, deep black hair.

“Here,” Cat gives him the stuffed animal after she’d helped him lie down flat on his back. Dr. Penhallow is meanwhile preparing everything. “Madzie says he’ll look out for you; make sure you’ll find your way over.”

“Thank you!” His voice cracks as he reaches for the other Magnus and holds him close, its soft fur an insignificant consolation in the face of the memory of a distraught little girl, crying in his arms at the thought of him leaving.

“I’m ready when you are,” Dr. Penhallow declares a moment later.

And suddenly it’s all very real. He looks up at Catarina, at Ragnor, and he’s scared. His fingers are sweaty and twitching, giddy and nervous. He knows it’s the right thing, the right decision, but still--

Ragnor’s hand closes around his, his knobbly fingers squeezing tighter than he would’ve thought him capable. It’s all the reassurance he needs.

“I’m ready.”

The doctor is doing something in the periphery of his vision, but he’s only looking at his friend one last time, at his open gaze, intense as always and so full of love and sadness and history. And he smiles. The image grows hazy then, his eyelids heavy and the memory of a single tear slipping from Alexander’s eyes blinks up in his mind. The world dims and his eyes fall shut. It’s peaceful, almost like feeling the sun on one’s face.

The pressure around his hand increases a bit and he thinks he hears a familiar, deep voice say, “Be happy, my friend.”

Then he’s gone.

  


  


  


** Alicante – right now **

The twittering of birds is the first noise that greets his ears. He’s standing, not lying down anymore and just like each of the other times before the heaviness of age is just gone. No aching bones, no wheezing breaths and his heart beats calm and steady in his chest. Slowly he opens his eyes.

He’s on the balcony, his hands on the concrete banister and the valley opens up beneath him, wide and green and beautiful. It’s morning, the air chilly and the sky just as gray as in New York, some hazy remnants of morning mist waft across the lake. It’s different, somehow. Quiet. He’s never been here in the morning.

Unconsciously his hands trail along the banister, taking in every bump of the surface. He takes a deep breath, tastes the snow from the mountains in the fresh air.

_It’s so real!_

Magnus gets it now, Alec’s disbelief and enthusiasm. Somehow – he can’t really put a finger on it – it feels different now, knowing that it’s not just temporary, that _this_ is his life now. His reality. With one hand pressed against his chest he looks down at the city and the lake and the mountains all around and he thinks of the people who are not here with him, takes it all in and thinks, “This is for you as well.”

But even if they are not ‘here’ here with him, one person is. The one person he longs to see more than anything in the world. The person he’s afraid to face again.

Alexander.

Only hesitating for a moment he goes inside. The living room is empty, the hallway as well and the part of the bedroom he can see from here is, too. It’s eerily quiet.

“Alexander?”

No answer. Just silence.

His stomach clenches. A shiver of dread runs down his spine as a thought hits him like an icicle through the heart: what if Alec isn’t here anymore? What if he left the house after the way they parted ways? What if he pushed him away for good? God! All those ugly things he’d said-- and that stupid, horrible slap that should’ve never ever happened--

The thought roots him to the spot, his breaths picking up in speed.

That’s when he spots the empty mug on the table, the remnants of tea inside still wet, so it couldn’t have been standing there for too long. His muscles unlock and the pressure around his chest eases somewhat. A quick look confirms that Alec is still here: the bed is unmade and there’re used dishes in the sink that don’t look too old. But there’s no sign of Alec anywhere. And his car is gone as well since he’d crashed it last time he’d been here.

_Where are you then?_

And how should he get-- wait! A grin settles on his lips as he remembers Alec telling him all about the perks of being a permanent resident, like being free to roam with just a thought if one so wishes. And he wishes! No idea how it works he closes his eyes and concentrates on Taki’s, on the street in front of it, the way it looks, the way--

The noise of a passing car has him open his eyes in record time and, startled, he jumps a bit. He’s on the main street, down in the city, right in front of Taki’s. Just like that. It’s quiet at this time of day, just a few cars passing by, some shop owners preparing their display before opening hours, some people strolling by. A guy is jogging past him. Magnus can only stare. It’s surreal. They’re all dead – _he_ is dead – and yet they’re not, not really. They’re here, young again and it’s all so-- so simple and mundane. And wonderful.

But Alec isn’t here. Of course he isn’t here. Why would he be here at this hour, it makes no sense, it’s just the first place that had come to his mind when thinking about Alicante. But thinking of Alec there’s only one place that makes sense to him.

Again he closes his eyes and when he opens them, he’s at the lake. At their place. The jetty is just a few yards away. It looks kind of mystical, almost creepy, the way it leads out into the lake while the opposite shore and the mountains behind almost vanish completely in the veil of gray-white mist. Though beautiful or not, there’s no Alec in sight anywhere, just a couple walking along the shoreline, hand in hand.

But if he’s not here, where could he possibly be? None of the places he actually knows of Alicante make any sense at this time of day.

Guilt gnaws at him, adding to the tight feeling across his chest. He shouldn’t have stayed away last Saturday. He should’ve just faced his fears and talked with Alec. At least he should’ve apologized. But no, he’d been a coward and stayed away, leaving Alec with nothing to hold on to and no way to contact him.

_Shit!_

_Alright, think! Think! Where else can he be? Where… no… or maybe? But… but there?_

It’s worth a try.

Within the blink of an eye – quite literally, something he could definitely get used to – he’s a bit further down the beach, at the part where not two weeks ago he’d crashed his car. Where he’d looked up at Alexander, the rain falling down on them both, and he’d reached out to take the offered hand-- only to disappear.

It’s not a place he would’ve ever revisited on his own, and yet there he is.

Right there, on the pebble beach. Maybe ten yards away.

Magnus’ breath hitches and he simply stares.

Alec is wearing a tight fitting, sleeveless grey cotton shirt that shows off his muscled chest – _and those arms_ – and loose dark sweatpants. He’s twirling a long, thin wooden staff with absolute precision. Sweat is glistening on his arms, his face, his neck; it’s staining the collar of his shirt and his back and it plasters his hair against his head.

Magnus can’t help but stare. Without really noticing, he licks his lips. He swallows, hard. And stares. Stares at the delicious play of muscles underneath skin, at the accuracy of each and every movement, the staff an extension to his body. It’s beautiful to watch, the perfect flow of motion, the balance between a dance and a fight. It’s graceful and powerful all in one. He’d had no idea that Alec is proficient in martial arts.

The thought pierces right through him, sharp and stinging like hell. Yes, Alec might not have asked about his life, about the kind of person he is or the life he’s lived so far, but he himself hasn’t done a much better job either.

Mesmerized and frozen in place he just keeps on watching, jittery and anxious all in one. Torn, yet again. Part of him wants to shout and storm off and just tackle Alec to the ground and kiss him senseless, but the other part, the guilty part is afraid. His hands are sweaty and he rubs them against his pants.

Alec hasn’t spotted him yet, too focused on his training. Cause that’s what it is, the training session of someone who knows what he’s doing. It hits him then, Alec must have learned this _before_ the accident that changed his life. It makes him wonder what kind of young man he’d been back then, what else he’d loved and enjoyed, because he certainly enjoyed _this_ from what Magnus can see.

The flow of motion comes to an end and Alec stops. Magnus holds his breath, unsure what to do as he watches Alec bending down to pick up a bottle of water and drink.

He takes a step forward, albeit a tentative one. Not that it matters. The gravel underneath his shoes crunches and gives him away, robbing him of the chance to compose himself or come up with something to greet Alec with after the way they’d parted last time.

Alec turns. The second their gazes meet he just stops, mid-motion. His mouth is still open, his lips glistening wetly and an errant water drop runs down over his chin and down his neck. Alec pays it no mind, only stares with wide eyes. “Magnus?”

“Hello Alexander.”

“What-- how-- but-- it’s morning.”

Under different circumstances this disbelieving, overwhelmed stuttering would’ve been endearing and made him smile, but right now his own nerves are too high-strung, his mouth too dry for words. So he just nods and takes a step forward.

He doesn’t need to, because Alec is moving now, taking one step after the other, first slow then faster and faster, closer and closer. He’s almost right in front of him when the dumbfounded expression gets wiped off his face by a smile that tugs at his lips. A moment later it lights his eyes and then practically splits his face. “You’re _here_!”

Taken off-guard for a second by the sheer amount of open joy – not that he doesn’t appreciate it, he does, he _so_ does – it’s just not what he expected, to be honest. And joy or not, Alec right in front of him, in easy reach or not, the tight pressure around his chest is still there and he just needs to say it. He needs Alec to _know_. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! I shouldn’t have said all those things, I shouldn’t have-”

Strong arms circle around him and enclose him in a tight, tight hug. A hand pushes into his hair at the back of his head and pulls him even closer, another hand grabs at the back of his shirt and the words die on his tongue. Forgotten for the moment, for this is everything he’d missed these last two weeks. And he wraps his arms around Alec as well. He doesn’t care that his back is wet or his hair is sticky with sweat, he just buries his face in his neck and breathes in the mixture of salty sweat and Alec, just pure simple Alec. And he has to close his eyes against the magnitude of emotions that wash over him. He’s back. With Alec. Alec still wants him. His legs feel weak and he actually sags a bit against the other, who doesn’t seem to notice. Or doesn’t mind.

Alec pulls back and everything in Magnus screams to not let him go, his fingers involuntarily fist into the wet fabric of Alec’s shirt, just to not lose him again. But Alec isn’t going anywhere, just leaning back so they can look at each other. The hand on his back pulls back until it’s on his arm, but the one at the nape of his neck stays right where it is. Something that Magnus very much appreciates.

He’s just about to start his apology again – for it needs to be said – when Alec shakes his head at him, his lips a tight line and self-blame in his eyes, but also wonder. “No, you were right to say all of that, Magnus. I needed to hear it. I was so selfish, only thinking about me and my situation and what I want-- I never thought to ask, not once, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“But-” Magnus is baffled. “I _slapped_ you! I never wanted-”

“I know,” Alec is quick to say. There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s almost too much to bear. “And it’s okay. I forgive you.”

He doesn’t deserve it and yet Alec is giving it so freely. The words just bubble up from beneath the turmoil in his chest and the warmth in his stomach. They need to get out, need to get out now because he can’t hold them back inside a second longer.

“I love you!” It’s breathless and urgent and maybe a touch desperate, but it’s the truth and he can accept it now. No, he wants to embrace it, that honest truth that makes him feel so very much alive.

Magnus doesn’t wait for an answer, he simply tugs the other closer and seals his lips with a rough and eager kiss. A choked off noise of surprise sounds from Alec, but only for a second – he can’t hold it against him, he’s a bit surprised at his own neediness as well – then he responds in kind. It’s messy and hot and perfect. It doesn’t matter that his emotions are all over the place, that he doesn’t know up from down, left from right. The only important thing is Alexander, back in his arms.

They’re both breathing hard when they pull back after a while, their foreheads still touching for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.” Alec leans back, slowly and clearly unwilling to part and yet his eyes roam over him, take him in, still bright with wonder. And he smiles. “You’re really here.”

Seeing that smile, that beautiful, wonderful, tender smile, so full of warmth and love and unafraid vulnerability, Magnus wonders how giving up on this, on this precious love, could’ve ever been an option.

He’s beaming right back. “I’m really here. For as long as you’ll have me.”

A shadow falls over Alec’s face. “But what about your wife and son?”

Guilt is an ugly emotion, it’s like a dangerous beast, once it gets its claws into you for good, it will drag you down into its dark lair and devour you in tiny pieces, feasting on you for a long, long time while you’re unable to find a way back out of that darkness until you finally embrace it and think it’s where you belong. And right now he can see the beginnings of that on Alexander’s face, the understanding that he’d given up on his former loved ones, turned away from an unspoken promise, all for his sake. Magnus couldn’t let that happen. He cups Alec’s cheek with his left hand and looks him deep in the eye, intent to get his message across.

“I will always love them, but I think – I hope – they’d want me to be happy. And you make me very happy, Alexander. Also, a friend kindly reminded me, that as long as I’m alive, or whatever you want to call this here, they will never be truly gone. As long as I’m here, they’ll always be here as well,” he says with a tap to his chest.

Alec’s gaze clears and turns curious instead of pinched off with guilt. “Your friend Ragnor? The one who loves to argue?”

Magnus can’t help but smile at that. He nods. And he knows it’s nothing but a figment of his imagination, but he thinks he can still feel the faint pressure of his friends hand around his.

Alec visibly swallows, working through something, before he tentatively asks, “Will you tell me about them one day? About your friend and your family?”

His smile wobbles for a second, but only for a second. “Yes, one day. But not today.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

And they have, they truly have. It’s still such a wild concept to grasp. Eternity. Well, or as long as the server lives at least, which is definitely something to not contemplate right now. Instead he rather looks at Alec, eyes roaming over his face and taking it all in. His sweaty hair and glistening skin, his wondrous, joyful smile, the soft crinkles around his beaming eyes.

“I love you, Alexander,” he says again, this time without the urgency and the breathlessness. It feels good to say it. “It scared the hell out of me, but not anymore.”

Alec pulls him in, a big grin on his face. His lips brush against his, their touch electrifying. Teasing. “And I love you, Magnus.” It’s barely more than a breath against his skin, but he takes it in like a starving man a morsel of food.

This time their kiss is quiet, gentle and full of promises. It ends far too quick and yet just holding onto Alec, just being held by him, it’s more than he could’ve hoped for and everything he craves. Emotions hang thick in the air and Magnus is glad for a moment of quiet. There’s too much to pick through it all, so he just stands there and enjoys the light, floating feeling that envelopes him, that featherlight bubbling and the warmth within his heart. He doesn’t want to think or analyse, not now. He just wants to be, in this very moment, with the man he loves.

A moment, as he remembers, that has begun with sweat and graceful movements and a staff.

He takes half a step backwards and, with his eyes fixed on Alec, nods towards his staff. “Need a sparring partner?”

Alec blinks in surprise and his eyebrows rise to skeptical heights. “You know how to do this?”

Oh, he has always loved a challenge. He waggles his eyebrows and puts on his best cocky grin. “Wanna find out?” He might regret this later on – it’s been almost three decades since he’d last trained with a bo – but that’s half the fun with challenges. And he still hopes that his body will remember what to do once he lays hand on the weapon again.

“Well, you can’t sparr in _this_.” Alec’s gesture encompasses his whole outfit.

A quick look down proofs Alec right. Velvety pants and an elegant shirt-vest-combo are certainly far from ideal for sportive activities, let alone his necklaces, bracelets, rings and earcuff.

“Yeah, probably not.”

“Just think about something you want to wear and it’s there. Just like magic.”

So, just like he’d thought then. Still, he frowns at Alec. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Instead of just changing his clothes with a thought as Alec had done back with his wedding outfit, he waves his hands about in elaborate swirls, his fingers practically dancing in the air until they vaguely point at his feet. From there he moves them slowly further up, always in showy, flowing gestures. And all the while his outfit slowly changes from his feet up, following the movements of his hands. His shiny, black shoes turn into sturdy training shoes, his dark blue shimmering pants into simple black sweatpants and his shirt and vest into a loose black tanktop. It’s a bit chilly with the cold morning air against his bare skin, but he’s sure once he’s warmed up and moving about that won’t be a problem anymore.

With one last elegant swirl of his hands he removes his jewelry, as well as the hard spikes from his hair. He leaves it still styled, of course, but with only a touch of gel so it’s flopping a bit with his movements, but not enough to fall into his eyes. Hopefully, it will catch Alec’s eyes and distract him just enough to give him a chance against him.

Who said anything about fighting fair?

Alec rolls his eyes at him and sighs, playing at annoyance, but failing miserable since he can barely keep from laughing. “Show-off!”

Completely unaffected by this – alright, not completely, he can’t hide his smile either – Magnus explains in all seriousness, “Magic is an elegant affair, Alexander! It deserves a little-- flourish.”

Their gazes meet and it takes all of three seconds before they burst into gales of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, I cried writing Magnus' passing as well. Maybe even more so because Ragnor made it so much worse for me. 
> 
> Also, the idea of Alec training with a staff... that came from the trailer for season 3B. Couldn't resist picking that up ;)
> 
> And I even managed to give Magnus his magic. Kind of ;D
> 
> I really hope you liked this one. The epilogue will follow next week (no more emotional rollercoaster rides, promise!)


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'll be in the cinema this evening and therefore likely forget to post this, you get this chapter early.  
> Is it really already the last one???

 

Inside one of many vast storage rooms at Idris Systems one of countless robotic arms slides along a row of sleek, spotless surfaces, dotted with round, blinking chips at regular intervalls. A soft whirring is the only noise in the whole hall. Slim, grey and with a few joints to reach even the highest rows of empty spots along the walls this robotic arm glides along the row until it finds the predestined coordinates. It stretches towards two dark spots on the wall, two empty holes. Between its robotic fingers wait two blue glowing chips, round and maybe the size of a walnut and with programmed precision it puts the two chips into the empty sockets, storing them away.

There are fine, black letters written in the middle of the blue, blinking lights. ‘AGL’, and ‘MB’ on the one right next to it.

The robotic arm pulls back and the two blue lights become one with the enormous wall of blinking lights, only the small filing number underneath each socket to tell them apart. Quietly whirring the robotic arm slides back towards the main aisle to get the next batch of consciousnesses to store away.

  


***

  


“No chance you’re gonna make this shot!”

“Wanna bet?”

Alec only cocks an eyebrow at Magnus, at his playful grin and his confident swagger as he comes closer to reach for his drink, then takes another glance at the pool table again. The black eight is the only ball left, but the angle between the white one and the pocket Magnus has to put it in is an impossible one. “Alright, lets bet. And if I win you’re going to accompany me tomorrow for your first archery lesson.”

“Archery?” Magnus’ eyes widen for a moment after he puts down his martini. “Fine. If I win – and I _will_ win – you’re going to join me on the dancefloor. Tonight.”

He almost chokes on his sip of martini and winces – he doesn’t think he’ll ever acquire a taste for it. And dancing? Seriously? His eyes flit through the club and take in the masses that are moving and waving to the music almost like one big entity. At least it’s not quite as crowded as it is on Saturdays. Alright, he could do this. He looks back and gives Magnus a determined nod. “Very well. You’re on.”

Completely unfazed Magnus saunters along the pool table, his eyes dancing with mirth, his grin toeing the fine line between cheeky and devious. There’s no doubt that by now he’s putting on a show for the crowd of onlookers they’d gathered throughout their three games. With a confidence that borders on cockiness he leans over the table, positions his cue, takes measure and finally makes his move. The ball hits the bank, then another, then another, then the black eight. And knocks it into the right pocket.

Alec just stares. People around him cheer and clap Magnus’s back. It should’ve been impossible, but somehow that’s a word that’s just not part of Magnus’ vocabulary. Alec can only shake his head, a disbelieving grin fighting its way onto his lips.

“I think you owe me a dance, Mr. Lightwood-Bane.”

His stomach tingles, light and fizzy as if it were filled with bursting bubbles. Lightwood-Bane. It’s still so new. Unreal. _Exciting_! On instinct his thumb brushes against the gold band around his finger.

“Indeed I do. I’m a man of my word, Mr. Lightwood-Bane.”

It’s not the answering grin that catches his eye, not even those adorable laughter lines, no, it’s the almost impercetible catch of Magnus’ breath, the only outward sign that this is still new and exciting for him, too.

They abandon their drinks and push their way through the crowd. Well, Alec pushes, Magnus skips through the throng of people with ease, like water that always finds the easiest path and slips even through the tiniest of cracks. Even with all the time of the world at his disposal, Alec is sure that he’d never learn how to do that.

He thinks he spots Heidi at the bar, eying them with disdain before she gets up and heads towards the back of the club. There’s no time to ponder, though, for they reach the dancefloor, Magnus in the lead. And just like magic there’s somehow space all of a sudden, just enough room for the two of them where a moment ago people have jumped and jerked to the music, something with a loud, driving beat. It’s like diving into water, after the first shock you slowly get used to it and you go through the motions to stay afloat. For him, that is. For Magnus on the other hand it’s a dive right into his element. His heart is beating to the rhythm of the music, pumping it’s driving beat right into his veins, while his lungs breathe the kinetic energy all around. Every muscle in his body comes alive, moving in fascinating synchronicity with the music, moving in ways that shouldn’t be anatomically possible. He _becomes_ water, fluid and elegant, and it makes Alec thirsty.

It takes him a lot longer to get into the flow. To actually feel the music in a way that it influences the way he moves, not that it even comes close to what Magnus does. But after a few minutes and some encouraging smiles and touches, he gets the hang of it. He tosses all inhibitions overboard and throws his hands up, shakes his head and shoulders to the beat and with a little guidance from Magnus – maybe more than he would’ve needed – he even moves his hips. No matter their movements, though, their gazes always catch each other again, gleaming and carefree. And he’s laughing, they both are, open and full of joy. Alec doesn’t care about the others all around, doesn’t care if they’re looking at him – at them – or not. Not one bit. He only cares for this wonderful, stunning man in front of him, who came back for him.

Who loves him.

Magnus grins and takes a step closer, mischief in his eyes. His hands run provocatively down his own chest while he tilts his head down, looking up at him through his lashes. A look that’s more an invitation to bed than to a dance. The next moment he dives down, almost crouching, almost touching him, still sex in his eyes.

And Alec answers that sinful display with a smirk of his own, amused and full of promises all at once. He reaches down and pulls the other up with nothing but his fingers underneath his chin, only to wrap his long arms around Magnus’ waist as soon as they’re on the same level again and spin them around in a swift and tight circle. They bump into one or two others, but their half-hearted complaints barely register.

“A dancer after all,” Magnus says with bright eyes and the biggest grin ever, after they stumble to a breathless stop. “You’re full of surprises, Alexander.”

“I’ve got one more!”

The words have barely left his mouth when he captures his husband’s lips in a kiss, right in the middle of the usual crowd at Taki’s. Right here for everyone to see. A surprised noise escapes Magnus at first, but then he leans into the kiss and his hands hold on to Alec’s back and neck, drawing him even closer.

And the driving beat of the music thrumbs in time with their hearts.

  


***

  


“How could you let him do this, Izzy?”

Izzy huffs, her arms crossed in front of her chest, and shoots her parents a disbelieving glare. “You do realize that he’s an adult and able to make his own decisions, right?”

Maryse and Robert Lightwood have just arrived, unannounced, and old and more frail than last time or not they haven’t beaten around the bush for one second after stepping into her home.

“You’re his sister, Isabelle. You should’ve dissuaded him from this foolishness, not encourage him!” She thinks she’s never heard her father this disappointed with her. The anger and reproach in her mother’s tone on the other hand she’s more than used to by now.

“Marrying some obscure guy who just appears out of thin air and then-- you let him _kill_ himself! How could you-”

“No, how could _you_?” She shouts right back, her hands flinging about in a bout of anger before she puts them firmly onto her hips, unconsciously copying the angry and annoyed posture her mother had always used back when she’d scolded her and her brothers. “Alec was your _son_! He was unhappy for _ages_ , trapped like a prisoner. He couldn’t live like this, but you never listened. Idris Systems offered him a second chance, a chance to _li_ _v_ _e_. It was all he ever wanted, but you _didn’t listen_. Worse even, you did everything you could to take that one chance away from him. You’re his parents! It should’ve been your frickin’ job to be there for him the way he needed you, but instead you forced him to go on because your goddamn guilt wouldn’t allow you to let him go!”

All color drained from her parents faces. “Don’t you dare talk to us like that!”

“On the contrary, Mom, I should’ve done this ages ago!”

Her mother’s jaw clenches. Even old and wrinkled, Maryse Lightwood is still all about hard angles and cold intransigence. “I want his name!”

“Whose name?” Izzy knows, but she won’t make this easy.

“The name of this- this _guy_ -” She spits out the last word as if it were a piece of rotten food in her mouth, unable – or unwilling – to hide her disgusted expression.

Izzy snorts, the sound even more repulsed than her mother’s face. “Seriously? Thirty years and you still can’t accept the fact that your son is gay? This – _this_ – is exactly why all of this happened in the first place! Have you learned _nothing_?” Her voice is shaking with incredulty and rage.

“We just want his name,” her father jimes in, but her mother is quick to adjust that statement, her voice like ice. “I want to see the face of the man who thinks he has the right to decide our son’s fate.”

And for the first time since she’d realized what kind of people her parents truly are she laughed at them. It’s an ugly laugh, full of disdain and victory. “Good luck with that!”

Her father sighs. “Just give us his name, Isabelle.”

She shrugs. “Fine. His name is Magnus Bane.”

“Magnus Bane,” her mother repeats, the name rolling off her tongue like a curse. “I _will_ find him and then he’ll have to answer for what he did!”

“Brooklyn. 5th Avenue and 25th Street.”

“What?”

“That’s where you’ll find him,” Izzy says, calm but also enjoying that for once her parents wouldn’t get what they wanted. “Green-Wood Cemetery.”

She doesn’t tell them that he passed over. She also doesn’t tell them that Magnus Bane wasn’t some obscure guy showing up out of nowhere, but a man Alec met in Alicante. A man he just couldn’t stop talking about whenever she visited. She doesn’t tell them that they loved each other and how happy Alec had been the day he married and finally left this world.

She doesn’t tell them. Some might consider it petty, but she thinks they don’t deserve to know.

And they wouldn’t understand it anyway.

But she does. And so she ushers her parents out, eager to get rid of them.

Back in the living room she stops in front of a picture, framed on the wall. It shows three teenagers: a boy with blond hair and a cheeky grin, a girl with dark hair, grabbing for the blond’s hands to keep him from tickling her, and behind them another tall boy, with dark hair and a lopsided grin, enveloping them both in a wide, brotherly hug.

Izzy smiles. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, big brother. You deserve it!”

  


***

  


“I thought you wanted to go out tonight?”

Magnus turns his head to see Alec step into the living room, clearly a bit confused, and quite justifiably at that. Alec had sent him off with a quick kiss earlier so he could change and get ready while Alec had stayed in the kitchen to clean up after their rather late dinner.

“I changed my mind.” He turns back and looks out of the window again. It’s pitchblack outside apart from the golden-yellow shine of light in some of the houses around that gets brighter down at the city center, but up here on the mountain it’s mostly dark. Snow flakes float through the air, thick and white and almost weightless, before they settle onto the ground without the faintest of noises. It’s strange, although he’s inside and nothing is really different it feels quieter with this blanket of snow all around, as if the fluffy whiteness somehow muffles all sounds.

Footsteps sound behind him, then stop suddenly, closely followed by a very surprised voice. “Is that _my_ hoodie?”

The dumbfounded expression on Alec’s face that’s reflected in the window is priceless. A smile tugs at his lips and he snuggles deeper into the material of the hoodie around his shoulders. The sleeves are too long and pool around his wrists and it’s a bit tight around his shoulders which is why he’s left the zipper open, but it’s warm and comfy and it smells like Alexander.

“What if it were?” he asks back playfully.

He watches Alec’s reflection as he steps closer and finally wraps his arms around him from behind. A kiss is placed behind his ear then another one against the side of his neck. Magnus tilts his head a bit and hums, utterly content. But Alec stops all too soon and leans close instead, their cheeks touching as their gazes meet in the reflection of the window.

“I love it!” Alec smiles. “Not just you in my hoodie, you in a hoodie period. But-- why?”

He nods towards the window. “Just look outside.”

“Yeah, so? It’s snowing. You know we don’t have to actually go outside to get to Taki’s, right?”

Magnus rolls his eyes, but with a fond smile. He turns around, never leaving Alec’s embrace, and faces his husband, his eyebrow cocked in a flirtatious way. “Of course I do, Alexander, but consider this for a moment: it’s winter. It’s dark and terribly cold outside. It’s snowing and we’ve got a blazing fire in the fireplace.” He places his right hand flat on Alec’s chest and slides it upwards, tantalizingly slow, until it’s around the back of his neck. He grins seductively. “You see where I’m going with this?”

It’s Alec who closes the distance between them and kisses him, too impatient to wait even a second longer. Magnus chuckles into the kiss at that. And before they get too carried away he gently pushes Alec, who doesn’t complain at being guided blindly through the room, backwards. The shine of the fire barely registers, though, as Alec looses his balance when he unexpectedly connects with an obstacle and falls back onto the couch.

Not that Magnus would’ve needed an invitation to climb on, but the way Alec looks at him with open desire in his hazel eyes as he bites his bottom lip, his teeth gliding over it as his lip slides back out underneath--

He’s on the couch in an instant, stradling Alec’s lap and closing his lips around Alec’s in a passionate kiss. _I love you_. _I love you. I love you_. The words repeat themselves over and over in his mind and he wants to say them, but he also doesn’t want to stop kissing, so he puts their meaning into each touch of his lips, of his tongue, into each gentle tug at Alec’s hair. Alec responds just in kind, his hands roaming and digging eagerly into his back, as if he needs something to hold on to.

But – alive or a digital animation of saved consciousness – they’re still only human as it seems, for after a while they need air. Breathing heavily he pulls back, just to trail a line of kisses along Alec’s jaw and down his neck. The answering moan to his ministrations is music in his ears.

“I think I like this turn of events.”

Magnus pulls back and looks down at Alec, huffing in indignation. “You only _think_?”

“Well,” Alec starts with a playful grin, “I definitely like this turn of events.” To get his message across he lifts his hips a bit, not much, but certainly enough. It’s like a spark of heat and need when their groins touch, sweet friction, if only for a second, and Magnus groans into the touch, groans at the hard proof of Alec’s words, wanting more of it. Much, much more.

“But--” Magnus needs a moment to gather his wits before he can actually focus on Alec’s words again. “--there’s still room for improvement,” Alec finishes, aiming for a serious expression which just looks ridiculous with the needy gleam in his eyes.

“Improvement.”

Alec nods. “Improvement.” And just as he says it his hands push underneath the hoodie and slide it off his shoulders. It’s gone in a moment, unlike those hands, which deftly undo the buttons of his rather plain blue shirt, one after the other, until they reach the last one.

His breath hitches as cool fingertips connect with his bare skin, trailing a featherlight line down the middle of his chest before they push the fabric aside and roam across his skin. It tingles everywhere Alec touches, his nipples harden at just the barest of touches and his abdominal muscles twitch in anticipation as nimble fingers trail across his belly.

Alec grins up at him, cheeky and triumphant. “Now that’s much better.” And with a tug at one of his necklaces – something that Alec really seems to enjoy – he pulls him in for another kiss.

The sudden ringing of a doorbell sounds loud in the quiet room. It startles them both.

“What-” Alec mumbles, frowning, while Magnus looks in the general direction of their frontdoor, equal parts annoyed with the interruption as well as puzzled. He hadn’t even known that they _ha_ _ve_ a doorbell until now.

It rings again.

Definitely annoyed now he pushes up from the couch, grumbling under his breath. “What the-” With a quick motion he retrieves the discarded hoodie and throws it over his shoulders, not bothering with the zipper. By the time he reaches the frontdoor, Alec merely a few steps behind him, the loud ringing fills his ears for a third time.

Clenching his teeth at the rude interruption _and_ the impatience of whoever’s outside, he practically rips the door open, ready to snarl his displeasure into someone’s face, only to stop dead in his tracks.

His mouth drops open and his brain short-circuits, for there’s nothing but white noise in his ears and words just won’t come, their meaning just as lost to him as the ability to form them.

It’s Ragnor.

Right there in front of him, standing in the darkness in front of their house with snow in his thick, brown hair. Tall and elegantly dressed in a long, dark coat and a thick cravat that both look like from another century altogether, Magnus can’t remember when he’d last seen his friend this young. Still, his youthful and quite handsome face wears the same grumpy expression he remembers.

“Do you have _any_ idea how long it took me to find this place?” Ragnor says, starting with a complaint instead of an explanation, of course.

“Um-- uh--” he stutters, his mind still not able to process speech, let alone a proper line of thinking. “Ragnor?”

His friend’s dark eyes roam over Magnus’ attire. He looks utterly unimpressed by his current state of undress, but instead of commenting on it, his gaze settles on something behind Magnus and this time, his tone is the epitome of curtsey. “Ah, Alexander, it’s so good to finally make your acquaintance. Properly this time. Ragnor Fell. I hope this is not a bad time?”

“Ah, um-” There’s a pause, Alec clearly taken off-guard. “No, not at all.”

Ragnor smiles a pleasant smile, then looks back to him again. It’s amazing, he’s never known anyone ever who manages to turn a smile into something provocative the way Ragnor does.

“It seems,” his friend says, annoyed and pugnatious as always, “I only have time till midnight, so, where is this ‘Spiral Labyrinth’ or whatever this giant library is called that you always insisted I ‘have to’ see?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this story!  
> It certainly was a fun and interesting - and sometimes emotionally draining - ride writing this.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting!


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